Unnecessary Roughness
by Yanagi-wa
Summary: Abby's so excited to see Tony home that she hugs him a bit too hard. He's not in that good a shape and her unnecessary roughness does more damage than anyone could have expected. Poor Tony. Second full story in Tony!SEAL AU
1. Chapter 1

Unnecessary Roughness.

~*~ Betaed by Jake and Jordre~*~

Chapter 1

AJ DiNozzo, US Navy SEAL, eyed his men with a sigh. They were all worn thin. In the two months since that debacle with the homegrown terrorist group, they'd been on three missions. Now that he was 'out,' it was a lot easier to be deployed for short missions. The sort he and his group were actually best at.

Gibbs just took the TAD's that Vance ordered him to. Tony's 'train 'em right' talk seemed to have sunk in. Or Gibbs was finally seeing the 'light' as Vance hoped. Tony snorted to himself, 'Yeah, right.'

He took inventory, ready for triage at the landing pad. Dean was bruised and battered but not bloody. Cosmo, on the other hand, had a back full of some sort of shrapnel. Remy was sitting sideways in his seat, guarding his possibly broken ribs. He, AJ, was also guarding ribs. He was pretty sure that they were badly cracked, but not broken. There wasn't that sandpapery, grinding feeling when he breathed.

Cosmo sighed, "LT, we need a break. I'm tired. Put me in for a couple of weeks, ok?"

Tony nodded. "I'm putting us all on R & R for at least a month. Crashing really takes it out of me."

And that was the crux of the matter. The last chopper they'd been on had flamed out and crashed. No one was exactly sure why; the consensus was that it was just worn out; sand did that. And Afghanistan was very sandy and rocky, that was the reason they called that whole area 'The Rockpile.'

He leaned back, got out his phone and sent a text to his commander. He knew that Belt would get it and deal, but chain of command. He knew that Captain McKinley would grant it. He was very good at judging when someone needed R&R and when they were just bitching. He shifted, trying to get the pressure off his ribs.

"Sir? Need something?" The Petty Officer looked concerned, with good reason.

Tony shook his head. "Nothing you can get. Just sore and tired. Maybe a bottle of water?"

The Petty Officer retreated to return with water. "Here, sir. Anything else?"

"No, just want this op over with. Don't have a thing for that." He smiled, that easy, genial smile that put people at ease.

"Sorry, sir." The PO saluted and went back to his seat. He looked at his buddy, then jerked his head in the direction of the cockpit.

The other PO slipped out of the jump seat and got an ETA. He returned to announce, "Fifteen minutes out. Medics at the pad."

Tony nodded to him and settled back to endure the last fifteen minutes of their flight. He would be glad to get to the Green Zone. From there, they'd get a ride to Germany, then on to the US. The total flight time was usually around 18 to 20 hours. He couldn't wait to get back home.

The landing wasn't that rough, but they all felt it in every bruise and scrape. The medics took Tony's written assessment and did their own triage. This seemed to agree with Tony's, so the SEALs were taken away in one truck, instead of the waiting ambulances. There was another flight nipping at their heels, and it contained men who were in worse shape than Tony and his team.

Their time in the 44th Medical Brigade Hospital Unit was short. Cosmo didn't need to be operated on, just 'picked'. A medic spent nearly an hour picking bits of gravel and metal out of his back. His final assessment was simple: "Keep that clean. Use some sort of antibiotic cream on it twice a day. I'll issue you a tube, but it's over-the-counter in the US. Put on a clean, white t-shirt after every application."

Cosmo made a face. He lived in base housing and he didn't have a roommate. He and Dean had lived together, off and on, from BUD/s. They were off, right now, due to Dean's getting a girlfriend and she wasn't that thrilled with having Cosmo wandering in and out of the bedroom without warning. Well, he'd deal. They'd probably both just give up their housing and live in motels until they were due back on duty, then they'd find something and move in together again. He had a feeling that the girlfriend was on her way out.

Remy and AJ both turned out, proved by x-ray, to have badly cracked ribs and a hell of a lot of bruising. AJ also had a cracked clavicle, or collar bone. They were both cautioned that they should not put any stress on the bones for the next two or three weeks and to take double calcium supplements. AJ commented that he'd take his calcium in the form of ice cream and cheese. The medic's reply of, "That too." made them all snicker.

The next part of their journey was accomplished in a C-130.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs eyed his phone for the hundredth time that day. If DiNozzo didn't call him soon - he wasn't sure what he'd do, but he'd do something. He checked his email, then barked, "McGee! Is that email thingy working?"

Timothy McGee sighed. He'd gone through this every day that DiNozzo was on deployment. He really didn't mind, they were all worried about Tony. Abby was particularly in alt; she regarded Tony as the big brother she's always wanted. "I checked it first thing this morning. It's working. I think it's just that Tony doesn't have a secure connection. We'll hear from him when the op is over."

Ziva David also sighed. She liked Tony, just as much as she liked all her co-workers. But this obsession was a bit too much. "In Mossad, we let people who are on a mission concentrate on their work." She returned to her research, never noticing the heated looks from everyone who'd heard her. This included several members of other teams.

McGee looked at Gibbs, who glowered back; mutual shrugs dismissed Ziva's attitude. She'd gotten a bit 'broody', as Abby said, since the completion of the homegrown terrorist case.

A loud 'ding' from McGee's computer put them on notice that there was finally an email from Tony. Tim had given each member of the team their own warning tone several years ago.

The email was short, only saying, "Team ok. All walking wounded. Be in tomorrow."

Ziva sniffed and returned to her computer. No one was sure exactly what she was working on; their last TDA had made the mistake of asking her and gotten her head bitten off for her troubles.

McGee sent the requested emails to Ducky, Palmer, and Vance.

Gibbs went down to tell Abby in person.

Abby Sciuto was an admitted lab rat, never happier than when she was analyzing something, or figuring out which test to do next. She also had a fondness for very loud heavy metal/Goth music. Gibbs had long ago given up on getting her to keep the volume low. He just insisted that she turn it down when he came in the room.

"Abby! ABBY!" Gibbs gave up and turned the portable down himself.

Abby turned around to see who had committed the sacrilege of turning down Skinned Possums. "Gibbs! Did you hear from Tony? Pleaseplease say you did."

Gibbs smiled, Abby was so hyper. "He'll be here tomorrow."

"Yay!" Abby grabbed Gibbs in one of her patented Abby-hugs, nearly crushing the breath out of him.

"Easy there, Abby. One of these days, you're gonna do someone a real mischief." Gibbs eased out of the hug, patted Abby on the cheek and teased, "You gonna do something embarrassing?"

Abby laughed. "No, just a banner and a great big hug. He's probably going to try to sneak in on me. Not a chance of that, I can tell you."

Gibbs shook his head. "I still don't believe that security tells you everyone who comes in and leaves."

Abby shook her head. "They don't. Only a few special people. You ... and Ducky ... and Jimmy ... and Ziva ... and McGee ... and Tony. Just family."

Gibbs leaned over to kiss Abby on her offered cheek. "Ok, ok. And keep that music down to a dull roar. The secretarial pool is complaining again."

"Ok. Sorry. Oops." Abby went back to her whatever-it-was, intent on squeezing out all its secrets.

Gibbs left, hoping that Abby really did keep the welcome home down to a minimum.

Tony endured the check-in procedure with an amiable smile on his face. It wasn't security's fault that management was paranoid. He was just glad that it didn't include a patdown. He wasn't sure that his bruises, which had bruises, would handle it well. Not to mention his ribs and clavicle.

"Clear. You can go on in." The security guard smiled. "How was the mission?"

"A bitch. Thanks, Steve." Tony knew most of the security personnel by name; if he didn't, he took the trouble to read their name strip.

Steve gave Tony a quick once over. He didn't have three sons and two grandsons for nothing. "You're hurting. What's up?"

"Cracked ribs, clavicle, bruises up the yin-yang. Usual. Chopper crash'll do that to ya. I'll be ok in a couple of weeks. As long as I don't stress anything. Desk duty for me." Tony grinned at Steve. It really did make him feel good that people noticed things.

"You take care of yourself. Now, go. Sit down. And stay down."

Tony ambled off, not even rushing to catch an elevator. Steve watched for a moment, then called Gibbs.

Abby paced back and forth in the bullpen. She had decorated it with a banner stretched across the front of Tony's desk and a few balloons taped to the corners of everything that would hold tape. Now she was just waiting for Tony to appear so she could give him a huge hug.

Gibbs answered his phone while he kept an eye on Abby. "What? You're sure? Ok. I got it."

Only he didn't. Just as he hung up the elevator dinged, Abby launched herself at Tony before he was even through the doors.

Tony staggered back with a yelp. Everyone within ten feet, even Director Vance on the mezzanine, heard the snap of Tony's collarbone breaking. Abby, not realizing what had happened, babbled happily, "Oh, Tony, I'm so glad to see you. You ... You look ... what?"

Gibbs, realizing that Abby was completely oblivious, pulled her off and shoved her into McGee's waiting arms. Abby protested loudly, "Gibbs, what? What are you doing? Timmy, let go!"

McGee held her easily, even when she tried to kick his shins. "Stop, Abby. Quit."

Director Vance was already on the phone, telling Ducky and Jimmy Palmer to get up to the squad room fast.

Meanwhile, Gibbs was easing Tony down into a chair that someone wheeled behind him.

"What's going on?" Gibbs knew Tony was hurt, just not how badly.

"Fractured clavicle now broken and displaced. Rib, the same." Tony coughed. "Oh, man, Boss, it's bad."

Ducky exited the back elevator with Jimmy on his heels. "What happened?"

Gibbs kept one hand on Tony, keeping him from doubling over. "Broken rib, clavicle, not sure what else. Abby hugged him." That sounded wrong somehow but Ducky put two and two together and got the correct answer.

"Oh, dear. Well, let me check." Ducky motioned to Jimmy, who came forward to help get Tony's shirt off.

Meanwhile, Abby was having her usual fit. Everybody liked Abby, she was a good soul but she was over-exuberant, amped to the max and didn't seem to actually listen to people. She'd been called to Human Resources twice on the inappropriate touching reg. She just didn't seem to understand that she had to ask to hug, every time.

Now, she was half in hysterics because she'd hurt Tony. She wanted to make sure that he was going to be ok. But her constant chant of 'ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod' wasn't helping anything and her struggle to get away from Tim to go to Tony was only keeping him from offering the help that Ducky needed.

"Ziva, take her." Tim pushed Abby into Ziva's arms and hurried to help Jimmy get Tony out of his shirt.

Ziva grabbed Abby in a tight grip, holding her upper arm in an attempt to keep her from running rampant. "Too much caffeine. Abby, stop struggling or I will subdue you." Abby meeped and stopped kicking, but she didn't stop pulling. Ziva jerked her arm a bit harder than necessary. "Stop! Now!" Abby finally stilled and Ziva dragged her into the team's bullpen, out of the way of the rush.

While Ziva was dealing with Abby, Tim helped Ducky and Jimmy with Tony. They realized that easing Tony out of his polo shirt was out of the question so Tim produced a SOG tanto point SOGSAT-6 and cut it off him.

Tony just mumbled, "Glad I wasn't particularly attached to that shirt." He coughed and everything went to hell.

Jimmy, who'd covered Tony's mouth with a tissue, eyed it for a moment then said, "Blood in his sputum."

Ducky snarled, "Damn it!"

Gibbs looked up at Vance and gave the signal he hated most, the hand gesture that meant 'Call 9-1-1.' Leon Vance nodded and started dialing.

While he was making arrangements to get medics through security without delay, Ducky and Jimmy were doing triage.

"We better get him flat. I don't like the sound of his chest at all." Jimmy pocketed his stethoscope. He did tend to keep it with him. It was useful for all sorts of things.

Ducky replied, "Do remember, dear boy, that he has had plague."

"I remember and that's why I really don't like what I'm hearing." Jimmy eyed Tony for a moment. "We don't want him doing any more damage than what's already done."

Ducky nodded. "And that clavicle is a problem. It could easily puncture the skin if we're careless."

Gibbs, well used to battlefield procedures, said, "If I take his shoulders and Tim takes his hips, that leaves you on the feet and Palmer can stabilize his side."

Ducky nodded. "That will do. Anthony, do not try to help, just keep still."

Tony gave up. He was really hurting now, and he could feel the blood filling his lung. "'K. Just watch the bruises."

It didn't take more than a few seconds to get Tony on the floor, but not flat. Jimmy quashed that quickly. He pulled the loose cushion off the chair and got it under Tony's shoulders, saying, "We need to keep him inclined or he'll start having trouble breathing."

Ziva finally lost her grip on Abby. She didn't want to hurt her co-worker so she didn't clamp down like she could have.

Abby scurried out of the bullpen and tried to get to Tony. She wasn't sure what she would do when she got to him. All she knew was that she'd unintentionally hurt her friend and she had to make it right.

Director Vance blocked her. "Miss Sciuto, let the medics deal with him. You can do whatever you need to after he's tended to. Now, go back to your lab and stay there. I'm sure you have plenty of work to deal with."

Abby opened her mouth to protest but Gibbs looked over Vance's shoulder, jerked his head in the direction of the stairs, signed 'Go!' then returned to Tony. Abby headed for the stairs and down to her lab. She'd stay there until someone gave her an all clear. She contemplated her computers for a moment then left that idea for now. She could hack into Bethesda, but it wouldn't do her any good until Tony had a chart to hack.

The EMTs appreciated the quick pass though security, even if the guards did refer to them as 'medics'. They got the gurney and their boxes into the elevator by the simple expedite of putting all their boxes on the gurney and squeezing in beside it.

"What do we know?" EMT 1, actual name Sam Hazard, asked his partner.

"Not much. The call was pretty terse according to dispatch. There's a doctor on site. Better just go with what he says." EMT 2, Joe Burns, replied.

They patiently stood, waiting for the elevator to reach the proper floor.

When the door opened, they started to exit, then had to pull up as their patient was right in front of the doors.

"Ok, Doc, what's what?" Sam knelt beside Ducky and started taking notes as Ducky reeled off stats in quick medical shorthand.

While they were doing that, Jimmy paired with Joe to stabilize Tony. Jimmy, as a 'real' doctor, positioned Tony's arm with his hand on the opposite shoulder then held it in place as Joe wrapped an Ace bandage around Tony's chest to hold it in place. This would stabilize his clavicle and keep it from moving or puncturing the skin.

Sam reread his notes then sighed. "Well, that's a mess. Punctured lung? Are you sure?" He held up a hand, palm out. "Not questioning your skills, just ..." Tony chose that moment to cough again. The bloody spray from his lips shut both EMTs up.

Sam opined, "Well, shit," and stood up. "We better roll, guys. That does not look good."

They teamed up to lift Tony onto the wheeled stretcher, actually a gurney. The EMTs positioned it at an angle, to keep Tony from choking on his own blood. They pushed the gurney into the elevator and started to close the doors. Gibbs blocked them with one hand, saying, "I'm his medical. Gimme a sec."

Tim thrust Gibbs' go-bag into his hand and Gibbs allowed the doors to shut.

While they went down to the main floor, Sam took the opportunity to wipe Tony's lips and chin. The amount of blood scared even that hardened individual. "Man, this is not good. We better hit it hard."

Tony managed a grin. "Sweet. I always wanted to go Code 3."

Gibbs grumbled. "Only you, DiNozzo. I swear."

Tony allowed, 'You're a Marine, so, yeah."

Gibbs watched as Tony's eyelids drooped. "God, what a Charlie Foxtrot. DiNozzo, Blue Light."

"Gotcha, Boss." Tony tried to relax, knowing that tensing up just made it hurt worse and doubled the chance of more damage.

Joe, never particularly shy, asked, "Blue Light?"

Tony didn't even open his eyes when he replied, "I'm not allowed to die. Didn't ask permission first."

Sam grunted, "Huh? Wha'?"

Gibbs explained, "He had plague. They used some kinda blue light to keep it from spreading."

Joe blinked then muttered, "Ok, no permission. Great. What next?"

Tony grimaced as he realized that he needed to complete his med-his. "Um ... I'm a SEAL. I'm allergic to ... a long list of pain killers and ... stuff. In my watch."

Gibbs, realizing what was needed, took Tony's watch off, opened the semi-secret compartment and picked the mini-SD card out of its socket. "Updated?"

"Just before the op." Tony was having real trouble breathing now. He really wished they'd hurry up.

Gibbs handed the chip to Sam, who plugged it into his touch pad and, without bothering to read anything, sent it to the ER with an ETA. He returned the chip to Gibbs, who stuck it back in Tony's watch, then pocketed it.

Gibbs held Tony's hand as they loaded him into the ambulance. He climbed in after and settled on the forward jump seat. "Bad?"

Tony knew exactly what Gibbs was referring to so he said, "Not really. Just…" He grimaced once as the ambulance jerked into motion. "I made it through an op, a chopper crash and get done in by an Abby-hug? I'm never going to live this down."

Gibbs managed not to sigh. Abby was in huge trouble.

Ziva snorted, her run had crashed while they were dealing with Abby and DiNozzo. Now she had to start it all over again. McGee wouldn't help her, she was sure. He'd turned her down the last time she'd asked, telling her that, while Gibbs could get away with being computer illiterate, she could not. It was no comfort that he'd said the same about DiNozzo. She rubbed her aching head and went to reset her analysis.

She wasn't sure exactly what was wrong with her but something was. Her temper was short and she had no patience with anything. She'd been fine for quite some time, but something on the last op had triggered something within her. She wasn't coping well with the changes. It had really been all she could do to keep from smacking Abby down hard. The woman wasn't stupid, but sometimes she was so silly that Ziva wondered why she was still working at NCIS.

She opened her left top desk drawer and took out a bottle of Advil, popped two and went back to work. Her headaches were getting worse.

While Ziva was trying to work, McGee was doing his best to talk to Abby.

She wasn't having anything to do with that idea. She was just anxious to get to the hospital, but Vance had told her she couldn't go until her work was done. So McGee was doing his best to talk her down while he helped her do her work.

Abby was mostly ignoring him. All she was doing was pace, reload her 'babies' and complain.

"Seriously! Why am I being punished? I didn't mean to hurt Tony. Why would he come in hurt? It's not reasonable. It's stupid. Not that Tony is stupid, because he's not. But it's stupid to come in injured. Really. And Ziva. She's so on my black list. What's with her? First she acts like we're all fine and dandy, then she's all, 'I am Mossad. I don't reveal what I'm thinking or feeling'." Abby let out a tiny, frustrated scream.

McGee, who'd only been half listening, jumped. "Abby! What?"

Abby stomped her food and threw a tizzy worthy of a two-year-old who needed a nap. "Timothy McGee! I swear, you never listen to me. I thought we were friends, but, now ... you're just like..."

Tim stood up, his temper on its last, ragged edge. "Abby, stop it. I'm trying to finish this so we can go to the hospital and see how Tony is. It's your fault he's hurt in the first place. I don't know how many times you've been warned. You'll get written up this time. And have to go to Human Resources' Acceptable Conduct Seminar. If you want to act like a child, fine. I've got work of my own to do." With that, he got up and went back to his desk.

Abby squealed, threw a few soft things around then went back to work. She needed to get her work done so she could get to the hospital and see Tony.

Tony just looked at Gibbs over the oxygen mask. He was really hurting now that the shock was fading. He really didn't think that an Abby-hug should have done all this. "Boss?"

Gibbs patted his shoulder gently and said, "Looks like a punctured lung and broken collarbone. But, you know EMTs, they don't want to say anything because the docs'll give 'em hell." Gibbs knew it was bad; having to repeat what Jimmy had told them meant that Tony wasn't getting enough oxygen.

He glanced at Sam. Sam just nodded and upped the oxy. He banged on the partition and yelled, "Floor it, Joe!"

Joe sped up. He'd been driving at speed, not relying on the lights and siren to get traffic out of the way. Now, he was going to turn up the volume and run full out, hoping like hell that the L&S kept some idiot from getting in the way.

Gibbs snarled as more blood flecked Tony's lips. He adjusted the gurney to prop him up more, hoping to keep some air flow. It worked, for now.

"We better be at Bethesda soon. Real soon."

Sam glanced at the readout over the partition between driver and back. "Five minutes. Pitt is waiting." He did the routine health check. "He's not blue. Breathing is labored, but ox levels are good. Pressure is a bit high, but no more than expected. Abdomen is hard." Sam frowned for a moment. "Any abdominal injuries?"

Gibbs smirked a bit. "No, he's just got a hell of a six-pack. PT."

"Ok, good." Sam listened to Tony's chest and frowned. "Rales on one side. That's the puncture site. I don't like the sound of it at all. He's very wet."

Joe swerved suddenly, throwing Gibbs and Sam from one side of the unit to the other. Tony, strapped firmly to the gurney faired a bit better, only groaning softly as his injuries were jarred.

"Sorry, some people don't seem to realize that getting out of the way of emergency units isn't a suggestion. Cop has the asshole."

Sam snarled, "And we're only one minute out. You'd think ..."

Gibbs interrupted him. "Idiots. Give up on 'em, before you drive yourself nuts."

Joe announced. "At the door. Come on."

They piled out, pulled the gurney gently off the back and wheeled Tony into the ER.

Dr Brad Pitt met them in the first bay. "Right here. What the hell happened this time?"

Sam rattled off stats and told Dr Pitt, "I downloaded his records from that chip." He nodded at Gibbs. "He gave it to me."

Brad nodded. "I got that. Good work. Now. Let me see." He turned to Tony and started his examination as Sam began to gather up his stuff. He still had shift time left and needed to get back to his rig.

Gibbs nodded to him. "Thanks, man."

"Welcome." Sam dug out his card. "Here, my card; let me know how he does. OK?"

"Sure thing." Gibbs pocketed the bit of paper. He would actually let the crew know. He knew how hard it was not to find out how things turned out. "Good shift."

"Thanks." And with that, Sam wheeled his gurney out of the bay and back to his rig.

Dr Pitt gave Tony a quick examination and announced, "Damn, he needs surgery on that rib and clavicle. I'll get it set up." He turned to a nurse. "Start the scrub in as soon as he gets up to pre-op. I don't want to waste any time. He doesn't have a pneumothorax yet, and I don't want him to have one, either."

Gibbs was relieved to hear that. If Tony's lung collapsed, they'd have more trouble than they did now.

Meanwhile, Tony was gasping worse and worse. His breathing finally became so labored that Dr Pitt ordered the oxygen turned up to 100 percent then barked, "Get him upstairs. I'm headed to scrub. Go!"

Gibbs, well aware of what was going to happen, just stepped out of the way. "Tony! I'll be there on the flip. Blue Light." Tony held up one hand, thumb up, then changed to 'okay'. Gibbs watched as he disappeared behind a flock of blue scrubs. Then he kicked the nearby trashcan and let loose with a stream of profanity that made a nurse peek in. "I'm okay. Go." The nurse disappeared.

Gibbs found the appropriate waiting room and settled in to wait. He wasn't good at waiting anymore, but he knew that bothering the staff would only get him a quick trip out the door. They had more important things to do besides alleviating his impatience. He thought about his old training officer. The man had told him he had the patience of a toddler. He'd agreed but proved that he had plenty, when he needed it. He needed it now.

It arrived in the person of Ducky. He came in 'Tut-tut-ing', dragging Jimmy with him. McGee arrived about the same time. They all took seats, fixing their eyes on the door.

About fifteen minutes after they got settled, Gibbs' phone rang. He dragged it out of his pocket and barked, "Gibbs." He listened for a moment then said, "He's in surgery. Not sure how long it'll take, or what needs done. I'll call when I know something. Send Abby ASAP, she'll be flipping out otherwise."

Director Vance hung up his phone and sighed. He had sadly misjudged DiNozzo. Anthony 'AJ' DiNozzo, Lieutenant Commander, US Navy SEAL, was neither an idiot, nor a frivolous frat boy. He was as highly decorated as Gibbs, and still on active duty. Now he was in the hospital because one of his co-workers couldn't follow regulations. He was going to write her up this time. Then he was going to send her to the hospital.

There were days he hated his job; this was one of them.

He got the form from his secretary, Cynthia. She'd been the former Director's secretary too. He'd kept her on for two reasons: one, she was very good and, two, he actually liked her.

Cynthia tapped on the door, then entered. "Here's that form. You heard anything about DiNozzo yet?"

Vance sighed; he should have known that anyone so universally liked couldn't be a total idiot. "No, he's in surgery. They're probably going to have to plate and pin something. Gibbs will call."

"Oh, dear. Well, just take it easy on Miss Sciuto, please. She's a good person; she just ... doesn't know her own strength sometimes." Cynthia left, shutting the door with a sharp click. She called Miss Sciuto to come up, cautioning her gently not to throw one of her tizzies.

Abby replied that she'd be good, hung up and headed up to the Director's office, worrying more about Tony than herself.

Ziva eyed Abby as she hustled through the squad room, headed for the stairs up to the Director's office. Unaware that anyone might overhear her she grumbled, "I hope she gets written up. She is so out of hand. In Mossad, she would be out on her butt, no matter how good she is. Outrageous."

Over the partition, Agent Willis scowled. He turned to his partner and told her what he'd heard. She hustled off to the break room to share that bit of Ziva cruelty with her best friend from the secretarial pool.

Everyone knew that once something got to the pool it was all over the building at lightning speed. It was, in this case, not exaggerated that much.

Ziva, totally unaware of how badly she was undercutting herself, continued to gripe to herself.

The fact that her uncomplimentary comments were a bit out of character for her, escaped everyone; except one person. Max Undine was a Human Resources councilor who was headed up to speak to Abby. He overheard Ziva and made a mental note to speak to her too.

Leon Vance took one look at the miserable huddle that was his best forensic scientist and gave up.

Abby looked like she was about to dissolve, tears streaked her mascara and eyeliner down her cheeks in black rivulets. She sniffled, wiping her nose on a bedraggled tissue that was way beyond able to do its job.

"Well, Miss Sciuto, I was about to hand you your ass, but I see it's not necessary. You do realize that you're going to have to take that damn acceptable touching workshop, right?"

Abby nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm so sorry. I just get all excited and ... and ... I really, really didn't mean to hurt Tony." She accepted the wad of tissues Vance handed her and blew her nose on one. She used the rest to scrub her cheeks dry, removing the smears of makeup. "I got all my work caught up and Lab 3 is up to speed on all my active cases. I don't have anything to run on any of them right now. Can I go see about Tony? Please? I'll come right back if I'm needed."

Vance waved Max to his seating area, the comfortable couch and chairs where he met with friends, took a quick meal and so on. He wasn't needed; Abby was already well aware of the consequence of her actions. "Abby. Take a deep breath. I'll make arrangements for a driver to take you to Bethesda. I don't want you driving. But, from now on, only four Caf-Pows a day, unless you're on a hot case. Ok?"

Abby nodded, took a deep breath and replied, "Ok. Thanks. And I'll expect an email with the details of that workshop. I'm really sorry for all the trouble. I just hope Tony isn't pissed at me. At least, not too pissed, because he has every right to be mad. I mean, I really hurt him."

Vance, well aware that Abby could work herself into quite a state, turned her over to the councilor with a quick, "Here, Max, take her and get her calm and into the car. Thanks." He sighed his relief at avoiding an Abby-babble of epic proportions. He eyed the write up and shook his head. How could he put a mark in Abby's jacket when she was so obviously contrite? He File 13'd the paper with a shake of his head. He never knew that Cynthia sneaked in at the earliest opportunity and shredded it.

He sighed and made the call that he was well aware that none of Gibbs' team would think to make. He called SecNav, who called Captain Rafe McKinley, Tony's CO.

Captain McKinley called Cosmo Richter, who called the rest of the team. They were all over the place but word got back that they'd be at Bethesda in under six hours. Cosmo also called Gibbs to give him the headsup.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Gibbs eyed his watch; Tony had been in surgery for over an hour. He was expecting Abby and Ziva at any moment. He knew that Abby had to finish several tests for other teams before she would be able to leave the Yard. Ziva, on the other hand, was late. She should have been here at least half an hour ago.

Just as he was beginning to try to get a handle on his Israeli agent, Ducky popped his head in the door.

"Jethro, Tim. Jimmy says that the surgeon is on his way." He started to turn away, but called over his shoulder, "Abby is here too. She just came in."

Abby hustled over to Gibbs, her face nearly clean of makeup. Gibbs just wrapped her in a gentle hug. "Abbs. He'll be ok."

Abby managed a rather shaky, watery smile. "I know. But, this time, it is really all my fault. I'm so sorry."

"Don't cry, your eyes'll be all red. Tony won't like that."

Tim moved to Abby's other side. "Boss is right. If Tony sees you crying, he'll be trying to get up, first thing out of anesthesia." He hugged her too, then asked, "Is Ziva parking the car?"

Abby hunched one shoulder. "I asked her if she wanted to come in the car with me and Max, but she ... sorta bit my head off. She'll be here when her search is done."

Gibbs blinked, "What search?"

Abby shook her head. "Don't know. She's acting awful weird."

Tim glanced at the door then, not seeing the surgeon yet, asked, "What happened?" He figured that asking would keep Abby from flipping out until the doctor got there.

"Well, I was in Vance's office. I was pretty sure he was going to write me up and do something awful but he just sorta bawled me out then told me I have to take that workshop he's been threatening me with. Not that I don't deserve to have to take it and all but still..."

"Abby! On target," Gibbs sidetracked her tangent gently.

"Yeah, sorry. So, anyway, I asked Ziva, on the way out, if she wanted to come with me. Max was so good, he helped me calm down and get it back together." Gibbs cleared his throat. "Yeah. She literally gave me a cold shoulder, said she had several searches running that she needed to finish then she got all snotty and said that 'In Mossad we do not have such things happening' and that I should 'not be allowed to act as you do and dress in such a silly fashion.' She's all weird and rude and cold. She never used to be like this. What is going on with her, anyway? So, she said she'd be here when she got here and she said, 'It is not like he is going to die on us. We could not...' and then she shut up, turned back to her monitor and ignored me. Max said that everyone copes in different ways. But that's not coping, that's... that's ... I don't know what."

Tim couldn't help but notice that Abby's imitation of Ziva was spot on for one, and emphasized her attitude quite well.

Ziva's uncharacteristic coldness was forgotten as the surgeon came in to give his report.

"Family of Anthony DiNozzo?" The surgeon blinked as everyone in the room turned to face him. He glanced over his shoulder at Dr Mallard. Ducky nodded then made way for Jimmy. "Well, quite the gathering. I'm glad to say that the surgery went very well. I'm aware that he was injured in battle, thus the bruising. As to the now displaced fractures, they were plated and pinned. I'll probably have to remove the clavicle plate as soon as the bone heals, pressure on that sort of thing can be painful and he has to carry a pack. So ... on to the lung issue." He checked his chart just to make sure he got it right. "Dr Pitt is in with him now. He is doing a non-invasive examination of the lung but things look good. Mr DiNozzo is a very strong young man. He'll need some PT to get back up to speed but everything looks good. Questions?"

Gibbs looked at Ducky, followed by everyone else in the room. Ducky took it upon himself to ask all the questions that no one else would know to ask. He grilled the poor surgeon for a few minutes then nodded. "Thank you very much, Dr. Allen. Please, go rest. You've done your part exceptionally well." The surgeon headed out, back to his work.

Abby sighed. "Ducky?"

"Anthony is doing as well as can be expected. Dr Pitt should be in in a few minutes with a report on that puncture. If it is simple — well, as simple as a punctured lung can be — he could be on his feet in less than a fortnight ..." At their puzzled looks he amended, "Two weeks. If we can keep him down that long. I fear that Anthony will not rest as he should. And chaining him to his desk is just a bit over the top."

Jimmy snickered, "Yes, it was ... just a bit. But it did work."

Abby smacked him in the stomach with the back of one hand. "Stop that. We can't keep him chained to his desk for two whole weeks." Jimmy grunted softly at the playful impact.

Tim couldn't help it, the relief made him a bit silly. "Really, not good. He's got to pee sometime."

Dr Pitt walked in on the resultant snickers. "Well, everyone here?"

Gibbs shook his head. "His SEAL team is scattered all over on R&R and Ziva is late. Other that that, yeah. So, get to it."

Dr Pitt nodded. "Fine. Well, the lung is not as damaged as it could have been. Your quick action on the site did that. We'll keep him out, sedated, for 12 hours. He's intubated to keep that lung inflated. If it collapses, we've got real trouble. The oxygen push will take the load off his lung and give it time to start healing. I don't expect any problems. However, infection is a possibility and I don't mean pneumonia. But we've got him on a strong antibiotic and I'm hopeful that we'll avoid that particular complication. Just, don't be alarmed; we've got him restrained. He's come up fighting one time too many." Brad braced himself for loud objections to the restraints; none came.

Gibbs realized that the hospital was just doing its best to protect everyone involved. He'd just have to be sure to be right there when Tony came to. If he wasn't, he was pretty sure that Tony would have a flashback and hurt himself before he realized that he wasn't captive in some camp in Afghanistan or Iraq. Or the Sudan, or ... Gibbs realized that Tony might even believe that he was in the US somewhere. He rubbed his face with one hand.

"God, what a Charlie Foxtrot."

They took their time getting to Recovery. It wouldn't do them any good to barge in and upset everyone. And Tony wasn't awake, so he wouldn't know that they took their time.

When they got there, what they saw didn't please any of them.

Tony was in bed, set at an incline. His mouth was taped around a tube that went into his lung to keep it inflated and help him breathe better. He was strapped to the bed with standard military medical restraints. He was too still; it unnerved Gibbs.

Abby gazed at the mess she'd made of Tony and started to cry again. Tim hugged her but told her, very firmly, to quit before Tony heard her. "You'll upset him; he'll struggle, and that'll make things even worse."

Abby stopped, except for a hiccup now and then.

Tim hated to see Tony like that. He was much too still and quiet for Tim's peace of mind.

Jimmy and Ducky eased away from the group, in search of Tony's chart.

They all jumped when someone behind them said, "Well, fuck. How'd this happen?"

Remy was standing in the middle of the hall with Cosmo and Dean on either side of him.

Dean added, "I know he did not do something he wasn't supposed to do. He gave his word."

Gibbs sighed; he wasn't looking forward to this at all. "He finished fracturing his clavicle and one rib. The rib punctured his lung."

Cosmo shook his head. "Since we all know he didn't do something he wasn't supposed to do… What the hell did happen?"

Abby bit the bullet and confessed. "I hugged him." She hung her head in shame.

Remy said, with creditable intelligence, "Excuse me?"

McGee stepped in. "Abby ... um ... she hugs ... well, it's more of a tackle-glomp than a hug. She got a bit too rough."

Three SEALs pinned Abby with astonished looks. She started to cry.

Dean stepped forward and plucked her out of Tim's grasp before anyone could do anything. "Hey! Pretty girl. Don't cry. We all know you didn't mean to hurt him. Now stop that." Cosmo and Remy joined him, adding their reassurances to Dean's. Abby finally calmed down.

"Ok, Boss, how do we fix this?" Remy turned to Gibbs.

Gibbs sighed, "We don't. He's sedated for now and restrained. That's got to go."

Remy shook his head, his dismayed expression a bit startling, "Oh, no. We don't want to do that."

Tim demanded, "Why not? It's not like he's going to punch someone."

Dean nodded, wisely, "You just keep thinking that. He'll come up fighting. Dollar."

Tim looked blank. "Dollar?"

Remy explained, "Bet you a dollar he does."

Gibbs sighed. "PTSD?"

Remy agreed, "A bit. He's as normal as the rest of us. Just can't hover over him when he's sleeping or when he's coming out of sedation. Can't seem to convince nurses and such not to. So he comes up swinging."

Everyone turned to look at the head nurse, who was frankly hovering. "I heard that. We've put notes in his charts. No one reads them." She shook her head. "Don't know why he's the one who has to suffer for others' stupidity, but ..." She hunched one shoulder. "I'll talk to the doctor."

Gibbs looked the group over. "Ducky?"

Ducky didn't bother to talk to the nurse, he just took the chart, made a note and handed it back to her. "There. Now, my dear, shall we?"

The nurse shook her head. "Rather not. You deal." She returned to the nurses' station to make a note on the white board.

All three slipped into the room, checked Tony over, then removed the restraints. While they were doing that Ducky gave them a quick, down and dirty explanation of exactly what was wrong with Tony. It was a bit more detailed that what Gibbs had given but he said the same things… only, as Dean said later, with more words.

Gibbs cleared his throat. All eyes returned to him. "We need to set up a rotation. I do not want him alone for a second. I'll take first watch ... with Remy?" Remy nodded. "Good. Tim and Abby. Then Cosmo and Dean. Eight hour shifts. Tim, take Abby home then go home yourself. Cosmo, Dean? You have a place?"

They admitted that they didn't.

Dean had given up his last place as too small and was currently without a rack. He'd been living with his girlfriend between ops which was the main reason she'd objected so strenuously to Cosmo's wandering in and out. Cosmo had also let his bivvy in barracks go, since they were on R&R and they hadn't expected to need a place for several weeks.

Gibbs thought for a moment then said, "My house isn't locked. You can stay there. Do not treat it like it was yours. Go."

Cosmo nodded, "Thanks, man. And ..." his indignant tone made Gibbs grin, "we'd never do anything to your house, man."

They trotted off, followed by Tim and Abby.

Jimmy, well aware that Gibbs knew he was on rotation at Howard University Hospital, where he was an active intern, wasn't hurt that he wasn't included in this rotation. He just told him, "You need me, call. I'll manage something."

Ducky couldn't take a rotation as he had half a dozen autopsies that needed to be done. He excused himself and headed back to get to them, saying more or less the same thing Jimmy had. If he was needed, call and he'd come back.

Gibbs turned to Remy. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, man, coffee." Remy ambled into the room and settled in the stiff, hospital-provided recliner.

Gibbs left and returned, fifteen minutes later, with four cups of hot, black coffee. He handed one to Remy and settled on the other side of Tony with another. The last two went on the small rolling table for later.

"So ... what can you tell me?" Gibbs sipped his coffee and waited while Remy considered that.

"Well, HALO'd in, blew shit up. Chopper crashed. Medic'd out. The usual." Remy seriously thought that was a complete explanation.

Gibbs did too, as all he said was, "Huh! Tough."

"Yeah." Remy returned to his coffee, satisfied that they'd had a nice conversation.

.

It was exactly six hours later when Tony started waking up. Gibbs was glad they'd removed the restraints as Tony flinched then made one abortive motion for the tube. He stilled quickly when Gibbs grabbed one hand while Remy got the other.

"Easy, AJ. Don't fight us. Gibbs is here too. Look." Remy patted Tony on the arm.

Tony looked at him for a moment then rolled his eyes over to look at Gibbs. He tugged gently on the hand that Gibbs held.

Gibbs held on, saying, "Easy. You can't have the tube out yet. You need positive air pressure on that lung. We don't want it collapsing on you. I'm going to call Brad, let him know you're awake."

Tony tugged again, signing into Gibbs' hand. "Okay." Gibbs let go, as did Remy. Tony relaxed.

Remy patted Tony on his good shoulder. "Damn, man, you really know how to mess up an R&R."

Tony gave him the bird, which made him laugh. Remy settled back in his chair.

Gibbs settled in his chair too. It seemed that a silent alarm had gone off in the nurses' station when Tony started fighting the respirator. Now, half a dozen nurses were buzzing around like agitated bees. Tony endured their fussing with undisguised irritation.

Gibbs finally had enough and barked, "Enough! Out!"

One nurse started to argue, but Brad walked in and told all the nurses to leave so he could examine his patient in peace. He told Gibbs to stay, looked at Remy then shrugged and started his exam.

It didn't take him long to finish. "Well, he's doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances." He smirked at Tony. "I'll have that tube out in a second. But it is nice to see the Buckeye so quiet."

Tony snapped his fingers then signed. Gibbs snorted. "Not translating that." He turned to Brad. "Better get on with it. His partner isn't looking too happy."

Brad glanced at Remy and got a hot stare in return. "Easy, there."

Gibbs' voice repeated Tony's words. "He's my partner in SEALs. Remy, stand down."

Remy settled back, willing to wait for an explanation. "Well, get on with it."

Dr. Pitt leaned over Tony. "Ok, ready? I'm going to turn the machine off. If you're breathing on your own, I'll pull the tube." He reached over and flipped the switch to turn off the respirator. Tony took a deep breath. "Good. Ready?" Tony managed a short nod. "Cough." Tony obediently coughed and Brad pulled the tube.

"Oh, man." Tony's raspy gagging cough told it all.

Remy helped him sit up a bit more while Gibbs held a straw to his lips. Tony drank carefully.

"Thanks." Tony sighed as Remy eased him back down. "Bed up?"

Brad agreed, "Just a bit more. I don't want you too upright, but a couple more degrees would help with the congestion. You're going to cough a lot for awhile. I don't want to give you a suppressant, as you need to get the clots out. You're going to be a miserable Buckeye for a bit." He checked the chart, made a note then asked, "Mind telling me how the hell you managed this mess?"

Tony flushed bright red. "Abby hugged me."

"Excuse me? She what?" Dr Pitt's stunned expression was everything Gibbs and Remy could have hoped for.

Gibbs' gleeful expression made Tony groan. Now that he was on the mend the jokes would start.

"Just call it an incident of unnecessary roughness." Tony whimpered; trust Gibbs to make this into a sports reference. "With a fifteen yard penalty."

Remy started laughing, Gibbs joined him. Tony couldn't help his own soft chuckles. Dr Pitt joined them. The relief of knowing that Tony was going to be okay came out in some rather inappropriate jokes. The nurses all just shook their heads, well used to this sort of behavior.

Brad finally got himself together. "Okay, okay. Now. As soon as we've run a few tests, we'll get you settled in a step-down. Then on to a regular room."

Tony sighed; the cannula that Brad had placed was providing enough oxygen that he felt much better. "I'm fine. I can go home."

Gibbs rolled his eyes while Remy just groaned. "No, you can't. You'll stay here until Dr Pitt says you can leave."

Tony fumbled with the cannula. "I'm fine. I can go home."

Gibbs smacked him in the back of the head. "Leave it! You'll stay until you're dismissed. No signing out AMA. Got me?"

Tony meeped then said, "Yes, Boss, I got you." He glowered half-heartedly.

Remy just pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed. "Sir. Usual behavior. Gibbs seems to sort of have him in line. He didn't even come up swinging." He made a face then added, "That means I owe Digimon a dollar." He listened for a moment. "Yes, sir." He handed Tony the phone. "Belt wants to talk to you."

Tony mumbled, "Traitor. Insubordinate asshole," then put the phone to his ear. "Sir?" He listened then stiffened slightly. "Yes, sir. I understand, sir. I will, sir. Dr Brad Pitt. Yes. Good-bye." He tossed the phone at Remy's head then snarled, "Okay. My orders are to cooperate with the doctor. LeBeau, I'll deal with you later."

Remy just sighed wearily. "Damn it, Badger, you're a royal pain in my ass, but I really don't want to break in a new CO. So, fuck it." He leaned back in the recliner, showing every intention of going to sleep.

Tony eyed him for a moment then glowered at Gibbs.

"Don't glare at me, DiNozzo. You'll follow doctor's orders. Lay down and get some rest. You look like shit." Gibbs followed Remy's example and let his head drop to the rest and closed his eyes.

Dr Pitt watched all this with undisguised amusement. "Well, I guess they told you. Seriously, Tony, rest. You'll have all sorts of trouble if you don't. Nothing's going to happen before you're ready. Now. I'm going to write 'on demand' orders for pain relief. Also an order for IV antibiotics, so don't pull that IV out." He scribbled on the chart then nodded. "Sleep. Or I'll sedate you again. Nothing you can do until the clots are out of your lungs." He glanced up at Tony's set expression. "If a clot wanders into the wrong place, you could have a stroke. Think about it." He left, satisfied by Tony's shocked expression that he'd gotten through.

Tony leaned back in the bed. He wasn't stupid, and he knew exactly what the effect of even a minor stroke would be on his ability to do either of his jobs. He resigned himself to several days in the hospital, on bed rest. "Well, fuck."

Gibbs opened one eye, checked Tony over then grumbled, "Sleep. Stay in bed. Take your meds." He closed his eye and actually did go to sleep. Tony followed soon after.

Remy eased out of his chair and pulled the blanket up a bit. They all felt the chill of the AC a bit after being in the Rockpile for any length of time. He also checked on Gibbs and covered him with a spare blanket. He eased out the door, in search of coffee.

Gibbs opened his eyes, pulled the blanket up a bit more, then went back to sleep. If Remiel Devereaux thought that he, Gibbs, wasn't aware of everything that went on around him, even fast asleep, he had another think coming.

.

Dean and Cosmo entered the 'holy of holies' — Gibbs' house — with a bit of trepidation. What they got wasn't what they'd expected.

Gibbs house was a simple three bedroom American Craftsman style house with an open living room/kitchen/dining room area; the dining room was semi-partitioned from the living room by a half wall. It was so sparsely furnished that it might be called Spartan

They climbed the stairs to find that the master bedroom was unoccupied, while the larger of the two other rooms showed every sign that Gibbs lived in it. The third bedroom was bland and a bit dusty.

Cosmo eyed Dean. Dean just sighed, "I'll call him." He dialed, Tony had given them all Gibbs' number, as well as the numbers of all his NCIS co-workers. He waited a few seconds then announced, "Direct to voice. So, what do we do?"

Cosmo thought for a second then said, "We take the Master bedroom and let the shit fly where it may. If he doesn't like it, we'll figure out something else."

They split up the needed chores, which included clean the whole house, get some groceries, chop some wood for the fireplace and do laundry. They got busy and had the whole upstairs of the house 'ship-shape and Bristol fashion' in just under four hours.

Then they went into the basement, just to check on things.

Dean got halfway down the stairs with Cosmo right behind him. Cosmo swore as Dean stopped dead in his tracks and nearly got trampled. Dean looked again then said, "Is that what I think it is?"

Cosmo clomped down two more stairs, looked, looked again then said, "Yes. Yes, it is. It's a fuckin' boat. Who the hell builds a damn boat in his basement? And how the hell does he get it out?"

"Man's a Marine. Who the hell knows what goes on in the head of a jarhead anyway? Come on, we've got better things to do than sweep up sawdust." Dean shrugged the whole thing off and headed back up to fix something to eat.

Cosmo gave the basement one more look and followed him, remarking, "Didn't see any sawdust to sweep. What's for food?"

"Burgers. Cut up an onion." Dean turned to the more important project of feeding himself and his partner.

.

Right on the dot, Tim and Abby showed up, Tim bearing coffee and Abby a portable DVD player and a handful of movies.

Tony was asleep and Gibbs hissed at them, "Quiet. He's asleep."

Remy got up, stretched and nodded to Gibbs. "I'm gone. You coming?"

"In a minute." Gibbs turned to Tim. "Be quiet. He's still on pain killers and a sedative. They took off all the junk when they were sure he didn't need it, so there're no monitors." He went on to give Tim all the information he needed to be sure that Tony wasn't relapsing, or trying to fool them into letting him go AMA.

Tim nodded his understanding when Gibbs finished. "Ok, Boss, got it. I'll keep an eye on him." He smirked just a tiny bit. "If he doesn't cooperate, I'll sic Abby on him." His eyes widened as he realized some of the implications of that. "Oh ... um ... Boss."

"Just don't let her hug him." Gibbs picked up his empty cups and left.

Remy silently handed Tim a dollar then walked out too.

Abby, hovering over a still oblivious Tony, moaned, "Oh, oh, he's so still. Is he ok? Really, really ok?"

Gibbs looked back over his shoulder from his position in the door. "Abs, he'll be fine in a month or so. He's sedated. Don't wake him up. And do not let him sign out AMA." And with that, he left.

Tim eyed Tony for a moment then said, "Abby, let him sleep. Sit down in that chair and be quiet."

Abby gave Tim an indignant glower but settled, only muttering, "McGee, you're getting way too bossy."

Tony mumbled, "Too noisy. Not bossy. McGee ..." then drifted off again.

Abby whispered, "Sorry. I'm so sorry," then settled in the stiff recliner to watch over her friend.

Tim took the recliner on the other side of the bed, the one Remy had used. He also settled in to watch over his friend. He, however, had a tablet so he could do some work.

.

Ziva scowled at her monitor. Someone was hacking into her searches. They didn't seem to be doing more than looking at what she was doing and she didn't know how to keep them out, so she ignored them.

Her head was throbbing now so she took more pills, drank some coffee and made a call or two. She still hadn't found out what she wanted to know. Tony kept so many secrets. This bothered her more and more as the days went by, so she had decided to get her answers elsewhere. Since Tony wouldn't give up the intel, she'd search it out for herself.

Tony was an enigma and she hated an enigma with an unholy passion.

She nearly jumped out of her shoes when someone leaned over the back of her cubicle and asked, "Hey! Any news on DiNozzo?"

Ziva turned to the man, noticing that it was Special Agent Balboa, and barked, "Do not do that. Do not sneak up behind me and do not lean over the partition. You are too close. I do not know anything about Special Agent DiNozzo. Gibbs has not chosen to call me. Call him yourself, if you are so interested."

Balboa backed away. "Okay, okay. Geez, have a spaz, will you? I was just asking. Everyone wants to know." He returned to his desk, muttering, "Man, that women is nuts. Mossad trains some seriously crazy people."

Director Vance returned to his office, a puzzled frown on his face. He told Cynthia to call Max Undine to come to his office.

It didn't take long for Max to appear.

"Max, have a seat."

Max sat down, fussily picking at the crease in his trousers to keep them neat. "Director?"

"Did you have a chance to speak to Miss David? I'm worried about her attitude." Vance got out his note pad and clicked his pen.

Max noticed that and sighed. "I did not. But, as Miss Sciuto and I were leaving, there was an ... incident." He told Vance about Ziva snapping at Abby. "So, I'm not sure what is going on with her, but I can assure you that it is not good. She's obsessed with some searches she keeps running. She's not falling down on her job, she's doing her duty. But ... she's in a bad place. I'm afraid that it will start affecting her ability to do her duty soon. She needs some sort of intervention."

"I see. I'd like you to interview her as soon as you can. I noticed that she hasn't checked on Special Agent DiNozzo yet. I overheard her tell Agent Balboa that Gibbs would call. And, she told him that he was standing too close. He was across the partition from her." Vance knew that this was an indicator that something was wrong. What, exactly, he wasn't sure. That was what he had people like Max for.

Max fiddled with his tie, murmuring, "Oh, dear. Not good. I do need to interview her formally." He cleared his throat. "I would like to know how Agent DiNozzo is doing. Have you heard?"

"No. I'll call the hospital now, if you'd like to wait?" Vance made it a question.

"I would. Thank you." Max settled back to wait patiently while Vance made his call.

It didn't take Vance long to get the information he needed. He was Director of NCIS and Tony was one of his agents. The hospital was relatively cooperative and gave him a quick rundown on Tony.

"Well, he's more or less awake. The lung is punctured but, since he got immediate treatment, it didn't collapse. We've got a best-case scenario. He'll be back on desk duty within a month. Dr Pitt left the information that he can't enter the field until that hole heals but he should be back in field condition in a month to six weeks." Vance made a few notes then glanced up at Max. "He's tough. SEAL. I ... sometimes I wonder at myself."

Max waved one hand in an airy gesture of negation. "No, Leon, you saw exactly what he wanted you to see. If you had read his jacket thoroughly, you might have gotten a clue. But... well, that's water under the bridge. Just see that you don't make the same mistake a second time." He smiled. "You do know the definition of insanity, right?"

Leon raised one eyebrow and started unwrapping a toothpick. "Might."

Max smirked, "One is; making the same mistake over and over again, and not learning anything."

Leon Vance was a hard man, he had to be to keep an outfit like NCIS under control, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that admitting when you were wrong brought more respect than denying errors in judgment. "Well, I know better now. So. He's going to be back sooner than anyone expects. We need to have this David situation settled before he is. I don't like it."

Max shifted carefully in his chair. "I don't like it either. But, until we have something concrete, all I can do is interview her and brace for impact."

"Damn it." Leon knew the crash was coming. He could see it looming on the horizon like a dark cloud; but, as Max had said, until they had solid proof, they just had to wait. He hated waiting.


	3. Chapter 3

chapter 3

Tony groaned softly. He had to cough, but that hurt, which brought on more coughing. It was a vicious cycle that Tony didn't want started again.

Tim flinched, looked up from his pad. He had no idea what had brought about that miserable sound. "Tony, what do you need? What can I do?"

Tony struggled to sit up. "I need to sit up. I'm gonna cough."

Tim rushed to help Tony sit up as requested. "Ok. Um ... cough? That's gonna hurt. You want a pillow?"

"Huh?" Tony couldn't manage more than a grunt.

"It'll help support your ribs. Here." Tim snatched up a blanket and hurriedly folded it into a rectangle. "Press this against your ribs." He helped Tony get it into place and pressed firmly. "Now cough. You can't not. I know it hurts but you'll get pneumonia if you don't."

While they were getting this done, Abby bustled out to get a nurse. "I'll go get a nurse. They take forever to answer that buzzer thing."

She returned with a nurse, just in time for the second coughing fit. "Oh, we can't have that. I'll have to get you a breathing treatment. Pillow? Ah, folded blanket. I'll bring you an extra pillow." She hurried out again, leaving them to deal with things for the moment.

Tony sighed. "Oh, man, that hurts."

Tim showed that he had more backbone than most suspected. He took on a fully trained SEAL. "Here, put on the mask." Tony tried to push it away. "No! You're not getting away with that. Put on the damn mask." He managed to get the mask on Tony then batted his hand away when he tried to pull it off again. "Leave it! Tony, you need it. I'll put it on one more time than you have strength to take it off."

"Better listen to him, Buckeye. That cough is too wet. You're going to need breathing treatments for that cough every four hours. If we don't get it under control, that lung is going to take forever to heal. And we have to hit a happy medium. Keep it suppressed, but not so much that you don't cough up the gunk." He smiled at Tony. "Sorry. But you're going to be hurting for a while."

"Ow! Fuck. Wolverine, you're a bastard." Tony's tone took the sting out of his words. "I'm hurting and you're quibbling. Can't I have some candy, at least?"

Dr Pitt didn't work at Bethesda Military Hospital for nothing. "Okay, that would be fine. You can have two 800-milligram Ibuprofen on demand. I just don't want you on too many opiates. You get weird on them and they're not good for your breathing. The do tend to suppress the reflex. I'll also prescribe an expectorant to loosen up the phlegm. You'll feel better after a treatment. The respiratory therapist should be here momentarily."

Tony sighed, coughed harshly then groaned. "Man. I feel like crap and you want me to be tortured by that ... thing." He reached up to move the oxygen mask.

Tim smacked Tony's hand down. "Leave that mask on."

Brad chuckled softly. "Leave it on. You need the help."

Tony grumbled wordlessly but left the mask in place.

Abby chimed in with, "What thing? What are you talking about? If it hurts you, why use it?"

Dr Pitt intercepted her questions as Tony was looking grey around the mouth. "It's a form of spirometer. It provides resistance on the inhale and the exhale. It also provides a warm mist of a mix of eucalyptus oil, tea tree oil and albuterol…" He checked the chart, added a note then finished, "in a three-percent solution. It helps increase lung function, prevents further scarring and aids in evacuating mucus." He gave Tony a pointed look. "So stop being such a whiny little bitch and soldier up."

Tony glared at him then sighed, "Damn it, not a soldier. I'm a sailor. Civilian!" He managed to cram a load of mock-contempt into that one word.

Dr Pitt laughed at him. "Squid. Just do the exercise." He patted Tony's feet, made another note and left.

Tim glanced at Abby then nodded to his pad. "I'm going to look things up. And check a couple of things. Keep him entertained."

Abby laughed, saluted left-handed and said, "Sir, Yes Sir."

Tim grumbled, "Don't call me sir. I work for a living. And that's the wrong hand."

Abby saluted again, with the other hand and barked, "Yes, ma'am."

Tony snickered and relaxed, which was the whole point. "Okay, okay. When's the therapist coming?"

Abby settled on the bed next to his shoulder. "Don't know. Soon probably. Do you need anything?"

Tony thought for a moment. "Not just yet. But after the therapy, I'm gonna need something to take the taste out of my mouth."

Abby hummed softly. "Bad?"

"Ever actually taste eucalyptus oil?" Tony's disgusted expression made Tim snicker. "Well?"

Tim nodded. "Had the flu really bad when I was a kid. Penny brought in all the holistic cures."

"Ugh! Not good." Abby scowled for a moment. "OH! I know. Honey. And, on top of killing the taste, it's good for you." She eased off the bed, careful not to jiggle Tony. "I'll go get some."

She trotted out, clomping away in boots that should have made her clumsy, but didn't.

As soon as she left Tony tried to get out of bed. He only got as far as removing the oxygen mask before Tim got to him. "Tony, stay in bed. If I have to tell, I'll tell Gibbs."

"I'm just going to the head." Tony actually whined.

"Yeah, right. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. The last time I let you go to the head, you checked yourself out AMA and I got head-slapped. No way." Tim wasn't falling for that again.

Tony realized that he had pulled that trick on Tim, only, this time, he really did just want to go to the head. "Ok, I'm sorry. But I really do just want the head."

Tim eyed him for a moment then relented. "Ok, but if this is some sort of trick ... I swear."

Tony started to get up but found that he was still attached to an IV and, annoyingly enough, a catheter. Why he felt the urge with that, he wasn't sure. "Um ... McGee, call a nurse. I think I've got a problem."

McGee didn't argue, he just went and got a nurse, male to Tony's relief. The nurse did a quick check and announced, "Well, you've kinked the line. I'll unkink it. If you want that cath out, you'll have to prove that you can get from your bed to the can without falling over. Tomorrow." He deftly took care of the problem and Tony sighed in relief.

Tim grimaced. Tony was being unusually cooperative; it made him nervous.

Tony lay back, planning a way out. He hated hospitals with a passion. He'd disliked them before the plague incident, now he outright hated them. The sooner he was out, the sooner he'd start getting better. And the fact that the food sucked didn't help things much.

"Tim, what's for lunch?" Abby stepped right into that one, Tony didn't even have to try.

Tim McGee looked at his watch then said, "Past lunch. Not dinner yet. They'll probably bring something just about the time we change guard." He winced at that. "Not that you need guarding. I ... well."

Tony put on his best hurt face. "McGee. I'm hurt. Why would I need a guard? Not like someone's trying to murder me or something. Or are you implying that I'm unreliable? That I'd ... do something untoward?"

Tim stammered and stuttered.

Abby just eased out of the door, mumbling something that sounded like, "Sandwich! Yeah, I need one. Like now."

Tim turned red then white then red again.

"Now look what you did." Tony's accusing eyes pinned Tim. "You ran Abby off with your unfounded accusations."

Tim squinted at Tony for a moment then exclaimed, "You're trying to guilt-trip me. Won't work. No! Just no. You're not talking me into letting you out of that bed before Dr Pitt says it's ok. Gibbs would kill me. And your team would pound the remains into paste."

Tony sighed. "Well, shit." He whined and bitched a bit but settled after a few minutes.

Tim was relieved by Abby about twenty minutes later.

She bounced in with a bag from the nearby Subway and handed him a sandwich. "Here, it's meatball sub with extra cheese. And I got turkey, bacon, avocado." She rummaged again and produced a third sandwich. "Tony, I hope you wanted seafood salad, lettuce, black olives and those pepper rings that aren't hot. I don't remember what they are but I like Subway, all you have to do is point at stuff."

Tony didn't bother with conversation; he just made grabby hands at the sandwich. "Abby. You're forgiven any and all sins. Gimme."

Abby handed the sandwich over, announcing, "Thank you, kind sir. And I got you some of those Sun chips you like. And ..." she produced one final thing from the bag. "A bottle of orange juice. Only ... how you can drink acidic orange juice with seafood salad, all that mayo, I really don't get. Doesn't it curdle in your stomach? Ick. So, anyway. I'm forgiven? Really really?"

Tony, well aware that Abby had never intended to injure him nodded, swallowed thickly and replied, "Really, really. Abby, I know you never intended to mess me up. But, new friend rule. You have to ask to hug. Not because I don't want you hugging me, but because I don't want another incident like this one. It's too stressful on both of us. Ok?"

Abby nodded, gulped and offered a hand, little finger extended. "Yes, pinky swear. Really."

Tony hooked his little finger around hers and they 'shook' on it. "Thanks, Abs. And I'm really sorry about you having to take that stupid workshop."

Abby twinkled at him. "I'll get out of it. You'll see. Now, eat, before they bring you some of that slop they call food and try to get you to eat it."

Tim shuddered. "Ugh. I don't understand how they can feed sick people that crap. Seriously, I'd rather eat an MRE. Cold."

Tony agreed with Tim while Abby just shuddered at the thought of preferring a cold MRE to hot food.

Tony finished his sandwich and chips. He scavenged the last of his drink, chasing it around the bottom of the bottle with the straw. He burped then winced as that action stressed his ribs and collarbone.

"Ow. Tim? You think ... if I let them strap my arm up, I could get out of here today?" Tony's hopeful, plaintive tone made Abby sigh.

Tim replied, sternly for him, "No, I do not. Stop asking, you're just annoying everyone. I wish I could take you home, since you want it so badly. But Gibbs would murder us both and Abby ..."

Abby interrupted, "I would help him hide the body. And leave no forensic evidence. So be good."

Tony grumbled but subsided. He knew that he didn't have a chance of leaving until his teammates took over. He decided to wait.

Ziva eyed the results of her last search with disgust. Tony's father was very rich, but she couldn't find a trace of any allowance, remittance, interest payment or any other money that Senior might be sending to Tony. The only money Tony had was from his pay. That was a fairly nice amount as he was more frugal than you might expect. It didn't hurt that he was… she thought the expression was dimple-dipping, but that didn't make sense. He was being paid by the Navy and NCIS; overtime and hazardous duty pay, and she wasn't quite sure what else, as it was all alphabet soup to her. It was all invested in various things, and all managed by a college friend of his.

She snarled softly. Her father had warned her, after he'd interviewed Tony, that she underestimated him badly. Now, she was well aware that she'd done exactly that when she'd built her dossier on him so many years ago. She wanted to fill in the blanks. She needed to find out all the things she'd missed. All the things that made Tony such an enigma. She liked puzzles; she hated ones she couldn't solve.

A voice from near the windows startled her. "David, you hear anything about DiNozzo?"

Ziva startled so badly that she knocked over her pencil holder. She snarled, "No! I have not! If you are so interested, call the hospital." She scrambled to pick up the contents of the holder, half of which had managed to fall on the floor. She grumbled, "I want to find out all these things. I will visit him soon. Just not ... now. Later." She stuffed her pens and pencils back in the holder and slammed it down on her desk.

Ziva didn't notice the odd looks she got from several of the other occupants of the room but she did notice Max. Her reaction to the Human Resources councilor was about what he'd expected. She barked, "What do you want? I am very busy, come back later."

Max looked at her for a moment then calmly stated, "You really need to speak to me. Or someone. Your behavior is becoming erratic, at best. Please. Won't you come with me now? We could talk about what is upsetting you."

Ziva snarled, "What is upsetting me is the fact that people seem to believe that I have lost my ... my jacks. What is upsetting me is that people will not leave me alone to do my job. Excuse me. I have to go ... to the ..." She grabbed her pack, waved a hand and stormed off.

Max frowned for a moment then turned to a nearby agent. "Lost her jacks? What on earth?"

The man shrugged, "She butchers most idiomatic English expressions worse than a text diva. I think she meant marbles."

Max thanked the man then made a few notes in Ziva's jacket, couched in psycho babble, that said she was on the ragged edge of a breakdown. He also noted that he could see no reason for it and she refused to speak to him about the concerns that NCIS might have about her mental state. He shook his head over that.

Max, like most professional councilors, meant well; that didn't mean they always did well. But, for his part, he did try very hard to keep people on the job, in the field, or whatever they desired. It didn't always work, sometimes they just weren't 'field ready'. He, and they, had to accept that; as did the PTB.

He rubbed his forehead absently, wondering what he could tell Vance that would give him an opportunity to actually help Miss David. She was hurting and he couldn't figure out why. And her refusal to interact with him made things so much worse. He was also worried about the fact that she hadn't visited Agent — or was it Lieutenant Commander? — DiNozzo yet.

His preliminary report to Director Vance stated that he didn't feel she was duty ready, not even for desk duty. She was refusing to recognize that she had any problem, was obsessing over minor details of several closed cases and running searches, the particulars of which and results thereof, she hid. None of this was good. It didn't help that all the other members of her team were absent with leave. Vance had given them all time off to deal with Tony and Abby.

After reading Max Undine's report, Director Vance decided to take Team Gibbs off rotation until further notice. Vance thought that his decision would be unpopular with Team Gibbs; he thought wrong.

His first call was to Gibbs. The slightly distracted, "Ok, fine," was followed by, "DiNozzo! Get the fuck back in that bed. Damn it." Vance wasn't the least bit surprised when Gibbs hung up on him without saying good-bye.

His second call was to Sam Brown, who was a bit more congenial. "Ok. I'll make a note and tell the CO. Thank you for calling." He also hung up without actually saying good-bye.

The rest of the calls he left up to Cynthia.

Gibbs had returned to the hospital in time for the 'changing of the guard,' as Abby was calling it. He'd gone to the Yard to deal with all the forms that needed to be filled out for Human Resources, so that they could be paid for the week they'd all be off. Doris was very helpful, actually making sure that several obscure bits of paper were done now, instead of being demanded weeks after the first request for back pay was sent through.

Now, he was dealing with Tony, who, doped to the gills again, was being stubbornly uncooperative. In a weird sort of way. He just didn't seem to be able to remember that he was injured and had to stay in bed. He'd agree happily that; yes, he understood that he was supposed to stay in bed, and, yes, he would do what he was told. Fifteen minutes later it was a repeat of the same explanations all over again.

Gibbs was beginning to understand why they would restrain him, but he wasn't about to allow that.

Dean pulled him aside and told him, "Look, man, you're going to be back on in a few. Go home and eat. Rest. You're going to have your hands full in about seven hours. I left you a platter in the fridge. Cook it. Go." Gibbs opened his mouth to argue; "Do I have to call you 'Sir'?"

He gave up. "Ok, ok. I'm going. If you need me, call. I'll be back in time for my shift." And he left, hoping he wasn't making a mistake.

When he got home, he found a platter in the fridge, just like Dean said he would. On it were a half pound burger patty, several slices of onion, tomato and pickle and a chunk of lettuce. He had mustard — the jar was on the platter too, so he was set.

He got out his frying pan, absently munching on the slices of tomato as he set it to heat. While the pan was heating, he put mustard on the bun, then onion, pickle, and lettuce. He wasn't much for all that rabbit food but it did help balance his diet.

When the pan was hot, he sprinkled the patty with salt and pepper and set it in the pan, popped a lid on it and turned to clean the kitchen. He was a bit startled to find that it was actually cleaner than he'd left it. He finished cooking, ate, cleaned up and all the while he was making plans to keep Tony in bed. Not that he was sure any of them would work.

He finally made his way upstairs to his bed, only to find a neat stack of laundry right in the middle of it. The note said, "Wasn't sure where this went, not about to rummage around." He put the clean clothing away, found his sleep pants and t-shirt and went to bed.

It was early to go to bed, but he was going to have to be at the hospital at 9pm; he'd be there until 5am. Then Tim and Abby from 5am to 1pm and Cosmo and Dean from 1pm to 9pm. Again and again, until Tony came home. And probably for a few days after that. He fell asleep very quickly; after all, never pass up a chance to eat, sleep or relieve yourself, you never know when the next one will come along.

Tony was confused, very much so. He knew he was in the hospital, he could tell by the smell, but he didn't remember why. Nothing hurt so it must be some sort of mistake. He grimaced as he realized that he had a catheter. That had to go, so he fiddled until he got the thing deflated and then carefully pulled it out. He winced, muttered, "Not good. Hate those." He examined his IV then pulled the tape away. He glanced up at Cosmo, who was reading something, concentration evident in his expression. He wasn't sure where Dean was but he knew he was close.

Cosmo glanced up at Tony then went back to his reading. Tony watched him through slitted eyelids and eased the IV out of his arm, clamping the tube by tying a knot in it. The needle, he stuck into the under edge of his mattress, he didn't want someone sticking themselves by accident.

Cosmo got up, stretched, and went into the head; he closed the door almost all the way. Tony watched this then slipped out of the bed and eased out the door. Cosmo didn't notice, more interested in taking a dump.

Tony made it to the laundry room and found a pair of scrubs on a shelf; he dropped his gown into the dirty clothing basket and donned the scrubs.

He was almost out the door when Dean came ambling back in from a run to the coffee shop. "Damn it, AJ, what the hell?" He just grabbed Tony by one arm and hauled him back to the room. "Will you please stay put? You're gonna hurt yourself."

Tony eyed him rather blearily and announced solemnly, "I'm very ok. I assure you. I don't hurt. So I don't need to be here. Hospitals are for hurt people. Which I'm not. Definitely. So ... um ... I'm leaving?"

"No, you're not. You're hurt. What the hell did that nurse ..." Dean yelled, "Cosmo? Where are you?"

Cosmo exited the head, zipping up as he came. "Damn it! He made a run for it. I can't even take a shit." He gave Tony an accusing stare. "AJ, you promised."

"Did I? The nurse came in ... no ... it wasn't a nurse. It was a man, in scrubs. He looked at my chart, then ... but you both were ... no, you were out. Where'd you go? I missed you while you were gone."

His rather plaintive tone made the two SEALs look at each other then groan.

A voice from the door announced. "What the hell did you let them give him?" Jimmy Palmer was there with a very irritated expression on his face. "I thought one of you was going to be here all the time. Those interns here are ..." he waved a hand dismissively. "They can't read a chart for shit. I swear." He grabbed the chart from the nurses' station, over the objections of the nurse and examined it. "They're supposed to write down everything they give him so ..." He flipped a few pages and exclaimed, "Yes! Here it is." He read the chart and sighed, "Well, someone, I can't make out the signature, but I'll find out, has given him a dose of a morphine based analgesic. One that Dr Mallard and Dr Pitt have both banned. It interferes with respiration and causes confusion. Both very much counter indicated in Special Agent, or Lieutenant Commander, um ... back on task ... case." He eyed the two men then continued, "I'm a bit disappointed in you both. What part of don't leave him alone wasn't clear?"

Dean blinked while Cosmo hung his head. It was a bit amusing to see slender, shy James Palmer calling two tall, muscular SEALs on the carpet. The result of their foul-up wasn't. "Now, both of you get in that room and make sure he doesn't do something dangerous. Like ... climb out the window!"

Dean whirled and ran, Cosmo right on his heels; they were just in time to keep Tony from pushing the screen out of the window in preparation to scaling the wall outside.

"Oh, no. No you do not. AJ, damn it, you can't climb down the side of Bethesda in your condition."

Tony argued, without heat, that he could. "I climbed down those cliffs in ... wherever it was. I was ..." he trailed off forgetting what he was going to say. "Anyway, dude, I can so."

Dean moaned softly. When he came out of it, AJ was going to take both of them to the mats, something both of them devoutly did not want.

Cosmo was more blasé, he just grabbed Tony, careful not to add to his injuries, and plopped him back in the bed. He rang for a nurse then started looking for the bits of medical equipment that Tony had removed.

He found the catheter easily enough. Tony protested at the sight of it, "No, just no. I hate that thing. I mean, seriously? What? Just no. I can go piss by myself. I'm potty trained, have been for years. And ... um ... No."

Cosmo, more familiar with catheters than he liked, agreed, "Ok, no cath. If you can make it all the way out into the hall, you can manage to get to the head without falling over. But you need the IV."

Tony pouted, "What for? I'm not dehydrated. Or ... um ... no rocket. Not been in the Box for ... no."

Cosmo nodded. "No, you don't need one. Just IV for the antibiotics you're on. Now come on." He plastered a pleading expression on his face. "You want Gibbs to shoot me?"

Tony considered that for a moment, then said, "No, I don't. I'll tell him not to. But ... Um ..."

Cosmo eyed Dean for a moment. "Where's that guy? Jimmy? What the hell did that idiot give him anyway?"

Dean shook his head. "No fucking idea. Man, what a Charlie Foxtrot. And BOHICA, here comes some REMF with a stick up his ass."

Cosmo glanced out the door then nodded, "You're right. Maybe. Look right behind him."

Behind the man they'd noticed strode Jimmy Palmer, but this was not the friendly, slightly geeky Palmer they all were familiar with. This man had a grim expression and fire in his eyes.

They both eavesdropped without a smidgeon of shame.

"Now. I want you to read me those allergy and med warnings." Jimmy handed the man Tony's chart.

He started to object, saying, "Look, all I needed to know was that he was in pain and none of the SOP meds had been prescribed. He needs ..." he shut up suddenly, as Cosmo loomed over Jimmy's right shoulder while Dean scowled over the left.

Cosmo patted Jimmy on the shoulder. "The Doc told you to read. Read. Or I'll read it to you." He showed his teeth in one of the unfriendliest smiles the intern had ever seen. "While Dean sits on you."

He read out loud. "Do not administer ..." he trailed off as he read the rather long list of taboo meds. "Oh."

Cosmo nodded. "Yeah. Oh." he turned his head just in time to catch Tony's second attempt to leave. "No. No, you do not. AJ, get back in the bed, please."

Gibbs stepped off the elevator just in time to see Cosmo and Dean leading Tony back to his bed for the second time, followed by several nurses. Gibbs barked, "What the hell is going on here?"

He looked at Jimmy who blandly threw the intern under the bus. "See, this idiot doesn't believe in reading charts before he administers meds. It's a good thing that Lieutenant Commander DiNozzo doesn't have the sort of allergy that leads to anaphylactic shock and respiratory arrest. You want to explain to him how stupid he is? Please?"

The intern rolled his eyes and started to explain. Gibbs cut him off before he could say more than, "As a doctor..."

Gibbs braced himself as he had done when in the corp, "Shut up. I don't give a damn if you're a doctor, or what. All I know is that a chart is written up for a reason. If you don't read it, you don't know things that are important. Like the fact that giving your patient a particular SOP med might kill them. Are you listening to me?"

The intern gulped and mumbled, "I hear you."

This did not go down well with the man standing behind Gibbs. "Excuse me. That was a pitiful answer. Gunny, my man, my ass-chewing."

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder, smiled grimly and nodded. "Have at it." He left to check on Tony, the sounds of an Army ass-chewing following him.

He did overhear 'CDF, learn it' and 'you are UFO in my command for the foreseeable future,' before he let the door close.

He turned to see Tony trying to get out of bed while Cosmo and Dean tried to keep him in it without hurting him. He was just about to yell when Remy opened the door.

"Well, shit. Who gave him what? And why?" Remy was used to this sort of thing. As Tony's partner he'd had several experiences with his behavior while under the influence of opiates, they all made him one form of crazy or another.

Gibbs sighed, rubbed his face and replied, "I don't know what, but I'll find out. Palmer probably knows. But where the hell did he go?"

"Right here." Jimmy braced himself for the impact of three laser like gazes. "I took the chart and read as much as I need to know. I should get class credit. Seriously. So, he was given a class three opioid, something he should never have. As it wears off, he'll have flashbacks to ... who knows what. And he'll be disoriented times two. So watch out — if he has a flashback, he might attack you, thinking you're keeping him prisoner or ... not sure what. And he's going to have to have the catheter back in." he flinched at the glare that statement produced. "I think. I'd like a check on his urine production. If you think you can get him to pee in a ..." he cleared his throat. "Ok. Look, I'm not a doctor yet, I'm just an intern. And not even at this hospital, I'm at Howard University Hospital. But I know what I'm doing, Doctor Mallard said so. So, we need to monitor his output, color, density, everything. Those meds are bad for kidney and liver function. And, since he's sensitive to them, we need to keep an eye on function for the next 12 hours. And we need to make sure that he doesn't sneak out, or hurt himself or someone else. I don't recommend restraining him, but someone needs to do DiNozzo watch, and I do mean watch, until he's down. Now, I'm just the Autopsy Gremlin so do what you want, but don't blame me if something bad happens. Now ... What?" he looked from one man to the other.

Gibbs just settled his shoulders and said, "Got it. Tell us exactly what to do. We'll deal."

They all turned quickly at the sound of applause from behind Gibbs, Dean and Cosmo. Tony was clapping his hands, a silly smile on his face. "You tell 'em, Jim. But Autopsy Gremlin doesn't fit you anymore. Not with that ... um ... attitude. Yeah. So ..." he leaned back against his pillow then sat up again, too quickly as he braced his ribs with a grunt. "But no tying me down. A great big negative on that. No, not ..." he subsided and glowered at Gibbs."And no shooting Dean, or Cosmo."

Gibbs pushed Dean aside and went to Tony. "Ok, Tony, no tying you down. But you have to stay in that bed. Unless you need the head. Then we need you to pee in a cup, so Jim can ... do medical stuff. Ok? And I'm not gonna shoot either one of them."

"Ok. Boss? I don't feel so good." And with that, he fell asleep.

Remy sighed. "Well, thank fuck for that. He'll sleep for a bit. But do not, I repeat, Do Not bend over him. If you want him awake, pat his foot. Don't shake him."

Gibbs nodded, then turned and eyed Dean and Cosmo up. "You two look beat. Bet DiNozzo was a handful. Go, rest." They relaxed a bit. Gibbs gave them a stern look. "I'd chew you out for leaving him alone." He shrugged. "But, shit happens. And around him..." he jerked a thumb at Tony. "It's usually a storm. And thanks for the burger makin's. And the clean house. Leave my boat alone."

"Got it." No one thought it odd that the two SEALs saluted a civilian, who saluted back. They left grumbling inaudibly.

Remy eyed Tony then snorted. "I swear, that man is a shit magnet."

Jimmy, who had called Ducky to see if anything could be done to hurry the opiates out of Tony's system, hung up with a grunt. "No help there. We just have to wait for it to work its way out of his system. I'm going to have to leave. I just dropped in for a little bit. I'm due on duty in half an hour. I'm probably going to get in trouble."

Remy exclaimed, "Hey! If you get a GOMAR, let me know. I know a guy who knows a guy."

Jimmy blinked, once, then replied, "I don't know what that is."

"General Officer Memorandum of Reprimand, a write-up." Gibbs explained easily. "You have whoever call me. I'll deal."

Jimmy grinned, "Thank you so much, Special Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs snorted, "It's just Gibbs to friends. You better get going, no sense in being later than necessary."

Jimmy beamed happily and hurried out. He glowered at the intern, who was still standing at attention in the middle of the corridor with his superior chewing him out.

With Jimmy out of the room, Tony suddenly came back to life.

"Hey, we have to think of a new name for Palmer. He's not the Autopsy Gremlin anymore. So he needs a new name." Tony nodded once, a sharp jerk of his head that got out of control and ended with him plopping back on his pillow with a puzzled expression on his face.

Gibbs muttered, "I'm gonna kill that little punk."

Remy just smirked at him. "No, you're not. I'm gonna smile at him."

Tony rolled his head on the pillow. "No, don't do that. The last time you smiled at a doctor that drugged me up, he pissed himself. Smelly."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Remy. Remy just smiled back; a dark, dangerous thing that didn't reach his eyes. Gibbs nodded then opened the room door and gestured, that wave of a hand at waist height that usually means 'after you'. Remy strolled out to harass the intern. Gibbs turned just in time to keep Tony from falling out of bed.

Tony clutched Gibbs' shoulders and managed to get his feet under him. "Don't feel so good, Boss. Head. Now." Gibbs didn't argue he just helped Tony into the bathroom and held his head as he puked up his socks.

Remy stuck his head in the door with a satisfied look on his face. It quickly turned into a scowl as he saw what was going on. "Man, I was hoping we could skip this bit."

Gibbs now realized exactly why Tony avoided opiates like poison; they nearly were poison to him. "We going to go through all the stages?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, we are. I have that POG on runner duty." Remy looked sadly at Tony, who was leaning against Gibbs. "Sorry, I didn't make him shit himself. Losin' my touch."

Tony laughed softly. "His CO already had a go at him."

Remy shrugged. "You wanna go back to bed, or stay here."

Tony struggled to close the back of his hospital gown, gave up and grumbled, "Might as well stay here. My dignity is gone anyway. Damn, drafty piece of shit. Boss, when can I have some pajamas, at least?"

"As soon as you quit tryin' to sneak out. Wanna blanket?" Gibbs levered himself to his feet, knees popping. Remy winced. "Doesn't hurt."

"Oh, that's good. Sounds awful." Remy handed over a blanket which Gibbs spread over Tony's back. He was heaving again. "Damn it. And he's ditched the IV. I should have made sure he got it back in sooner. But he hates IV's. Or anything medical. I swear, he's just as likely to go home and medic himself as he is to stay put in the infirm, even." He nodded at Tony. "AJ's a great CO, but he's like a little kid when he's doped up. And I'm not breakin' in a new CO, or battle buddy."

Gibbs hitched one shoulder in an irritable gesture. "Not gonna have ta. I'll get a nurse." He headed for the door. "When he's done, get him in the bed, ok?"

Remy nodded. He knelt beside Tony, rubbing his back and helping him hold his head up.

Gibbs returned with a nurse bearing a new IV set up. She wasn't a happy bunny and let them know it.

As she set up the new IV bag and tubing she let them all have it. "I swear you SEALs are impossible. Really, would it kill you to stay in bed until you're ready to be released? On your way to well again? Darn it. Now! You. Back in the bed."

Tony was cooperative, except for the simple remark. "Watch your mouth, Lieutenant."

She scowled at him for a moment then said, "Well, that is my rank, sailor."

Remy winced behind her back. Tony returned, "That's very commendable but I'm a Lieutenant Commander. Now ... um ... shit." he lay back in the bed and offered her his arm. "Do whatever."

She just patted his shoulder. "Sorry, sir, I just get pissy when people seem determined to hurt themselves. Now, little stick. And I'm going to really tape this up, just so you don't pull it out because you forget about it." She proceeded to tape the hell out of Tony's IV. "Okay; also, what did you do with the needle?"

Tony frowned in confusion. "Um ... it's in my arm?"

"No, the other one. The one you took out." She carefully checked beneath his pillow, then peeked under the bed.

"Oh, yeah, that one." Tony started to feel around under the edge of the mattress. "It's here ... somewhere."

Nurse Boynton patted his hand away from it. "Stop fumbling around. I'll find it. I do not want you to stick yourself." She easily spotted the needle, extracted it, and dropped it into a sharps container. "There. Now, call me if you need anything." She left, leaving Gibbs and Remy to deal with a still confused but not combative AJ.

This consisted of constantly telling Tony to stay in the bed, leave the IV alone and reminding him that he had broken bones. They also had to help him to the head, either to puke or piss. They had him use a cup so they could test it for various signs that his kidneys or liver were shutting down. Gibbs worried over every test. Remy finally told him, "Relax, man, we've been through this enough that I can usually tell if he's shutting down. Only done that once, early days; that IV is full bore and opened wide. I'll get him some Gatorade soon. I just hope they have fruit punch. Getting him to drink much of anything else is a bit ..." he waggled a hand to indicate that it was problematic. "And never try to get him to drink original, he'll just puke it up again."

By the end of their shift, they were both exhausted and ready to go home.

Finally, Abby popped her head in the door, announcing, "Weee're Heeere." Which made Tony laugh. Neither Gibbs nor Remy got the reference, they were just glad to see their relief.

Gibbs kissed Abby on the cheek and asked, "Where's Tim?"

"Coming. He's parking his car." She pulled a bag from behind her back. "I brought Tony something."

Tony, feeling much better by now, made grabby hands, "Gimme! What did you bring?"

Gibbs, who'd taken the bag from Abby so she could take off her shawl, fished around. "Ok, some sort of smoothie thing, a bottle of something red, and ... what is this?" He held out a covered bowl of some sort of goop.

Tony scowled at it then announced with finality, 'No, Abby. No way. I am not eating tofu, veggie scramble. Ever. Not even at gunpoint.

Abby shook her head. "No, I know you're not, but I am. The mango-berry smoothie with protein is for you. And the not-Gatorade. I don't like that stuff very much. Too many chemicals in it. But that electrolyte replacement is special. I made it myself." She settled with her food.

Gibbs eyed the slightly cloudy stuff for a moment then handed it to Tony. "Well, ok. Drink slow, DiNozzo. Don't want you pukin' it back up."

"Okay, Boss. I'll be okay now, I think. Sorry to be such a pain in your ass."

Tony expected a head slap and braced for it. Gibbs surprised him by gently stroking his cow lick down. "Shut up. You're not a pain, except when you're bein' an idiot. Rest."

Tony smiled at Gibbs. "Thanks, Boss."

Remy smiled genially at everyone and announced, "Gibbs and I officially turn over DiNozzo watch to you." Turning to Gibbs he said, "Come on, I'll treat you to dinner. On me. Be impressed."

Gibbs followed Remy out the door while Tony yelled after him. "Make it expensive. Ol' tightwad never treats."

Remy's genial, "Fuck you, AJ," left Tim red-faced.

Abby snorted, "Is that okay? I mean, you're his commanding officer. Isn't he supposed to salute you and stuff?"

Tony laughed easily. "Well, it's one of those man things. Once you've gone through BUD/s with a guy, puked in his hat, and bled all over him, rank sorta goes out the window. If I call him out on it, it means things are serious. They're not lead-or-bleed right now. Besides, a battle buddy is special."

Abby just said, "Oh, okay."

Tim, on the other hand, filed that away for future contemplation. He filled the silence with checking Tony's chart, his IV and the head. He was worried about their ability to keep Tony in bed if he really decided to leave.

Tony watched while he sipped his smoothie. Finally, he demanded, "McGee, what is your malfunction?"

"Um ... I'm just ... You won't stay in bed and I have no idea how to make you." Tim had found out that just telling Tony his concerns worked better than dancing around the subject for fear of being embarrassed.

"I only get difficult when they give me opiates. Then I get nuts. Do me a favor. If anyone tries to give me something while I'm asleep, make sure you find out exactly what it is and if it's on the banned list or not." Tony settled back on the bed, punching the paper thin pillow in an effort to fluff it. "I'm bushed. I'll probably nap off and on all evening. And do not let them give me any sort of sleepy juice; I'll come up fighting when it wears off."

Tim made careful mental notes. "Okay, I can do all that. Gibbs looked tired, what went on?"

Tony sighed, "No idea. I don't usually remember much. I'm still a bit fuzzy around the edges. Oh, if Nurse Commander Boynton comes in and I'm asleep, tell her I apologize. She'll know what you mean." Then, between one breath and another, he was asleep.

Tim eyed him then grumbled, "I wish I could do that."

Abby snorted into her scramble then said, "Probably don't." She scooted back in the recliner to finish her food.

Tim took the other recliner, rummaged in his bag and got out his tablet and a burrito. He started to eat as he watched some displays flicker on his tablet. Abby got up and squeezed into the chair with him.

She watched the display for a few moments while she finished her food. Finally finished, she tossed the bowl and plastic spork. "What's on?"

Tim just scooted the pad to where she could see while he, too, finished his food. When he'd swallowed the final bite he said, "Someone, Ziva, is searching every anything she can find. Search words include; DiNozzo, money, accounts, medals, awards, family, service and a bunch of others. I just want to know what she's up to. She's gotten really obsessive lately and I don't like it."

Abby scowled at the flickering bars. "So what are you doing about it?"

"Just keeping track, for now. If she gets too close to something classified, I'll ... not sure."

Just then Tim's phone began to ring. He answered it then listened. What he heard made him shiver then grumble, "Well, that's that."

"What?" Abby was worried, she knew that a lot of Tony's records were so classified that even Director Vance couldn't see them. Ziva was getting very close to a charge of treason.

"Well, that was ... um ... I'm not supposed to say. Only I was told that, as a favor to someone high up in Tony's chain of command, I'm to ... um ... sabotage any and all unauthorized prying into Tony's records, past, family or anything, actually, at the source. So." He couldn't help a rather evil smile. He got his personal laptop out of his bag.

Due to several factors, he now carried his NCIS issue laptop, a tablet that he'd had built for him, and his personal laptop.

His personal laptop was hand-built by Tim himself and was the most powerful he could manage. Now, he used it to track activity from several sources. He grinned at Abby. "Get my other laptop and connect to ..." From there, his words were so technical that only someone on his level, like Abby, could understand what he was saying.

They connected to the NCIS mainframe through Tim's personal connection and wreaked havoc, all in the name of national security. A quick call back got them the request to shut her down, then destroy all her files at exactly 11:45 am. He acknowledged the request by saying, "I got it. And you can call me Digimon."


	4. Chapter 4

chapter 4

Ziva gave a little squeal of pure frustration as her computer shut down completely. She had an odd seal rotating in the middle of her computer with a scroll running under it. She read the scrolling words with irritation and confusion. It was easily translated from the official legalese as 'You've been blocked and you are so screwed'. She stood up, grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

She made it as far as the elevator before Director Vance called her. "Miss David, a moment."

"What? I have ..." She trailed off as the elevator doors opened and four SEALs came out right on time.

"Ma'am, we have to ask you to come with us." All four were eyeing her like she was a steak and they were hungry.

"And if I don't wish to?" Ziva knew that, no matter how good she was, she was no match for four highly trained, huge, muscular men; each one out-weighed her by a factor of at least three.

"Don't want to make a fight of it here in the squad room, but we will. And, if you make us fight you, you'll have to have thrown the first punch." The man looked like he didn't care one way or another.

Something Tony had said years ago popped into her head; 'A man who hits a woman is no man. A woman who hits a man, gives up the protection of her sex.' She decided not to put these grim-faced men to the test.

"Very well. I will come with you." She handed her bag to the SEAL who reached for it.

Another SEAL eyed her up. "You're armed, and that was not a question. Do we have to pat you down, or will you be honest?"

Vance interfered at that moment. "I'll send a lady from another team with you to interrogation. She'll pat Miss David down for you." he eyed Ziva sourly. "You are, in case you were in any doubts, in very deep shit."

Ziva glowered at him then the SEALs. "Well? Shall we? Or are we going to stand around, debating?"

The team lead just jerked his head, "This way."

Ziva snarked, "I am well aware of the way to interrogation." She then stormed off in that direction, leaving the SEALs to follow, or not, as they pleased.

Vance called an Agent from a secondary team, named Angela Davis, to come and pat Ziva down.

Her reply was to be expected, "What? Me? Are you sure? I mean, she'll rip my head off. I asked her a perfectly civil question and she called me names."

Vance rubbed his face, "Yes, I'm sure. She won't be a problem, she's under guard. Please come now."

Angela came to interrogation.

She wasn't a small woman by any means; in fact she was nearly 6 feet tall and weighed in at about 160 — she wasn't admitting to more, thank you. But she was sure that Ziva was a better fighter than she was and didn't want a confrontation with her.

She was met at the door to the interrogation room by a SEAL in blacks who smiled at her, all gleaming white teeth and said, "Glad to see you, ma'am. This way please." He led her into the room and eyed Ziva for a moment then asked, "Is this lady acceptable?"

Ziva glanced up, barked, "Fine," and started putting weapons on the table. She lined them up then said, "That is everything. I swear."

The SEAL looked impressed, "Man, that's a load. Ma'am, if you would." He stepped out.

Angela eyed the mirrored window, then Ziva. "OK, let's do this and be done with it."

Ziva just stood still as Angela ran her hands over her arms, legs, back and chest. "Done. Thank you, Ziva."

Ziva gave her a puzzled look. "What for?"

"For not being difficult about this. I don't know what's going on and I don't want to. Good day." Angela got herself out of the room with a relieved sigh. A SEAL took her place quickly.

Director Vance thanked her and left her to go about her business. She made it to the break room before her knees went weak. The gossip mill went wild over her disclosures. She didn't care that, perhaps, things should have been a secret. No one had told her it was, so she told her story, sticking strictly to the facts.

Meanwhile, the SEAL collected a Sig Sauer, a Colt Bulldog .32, a pair of handcuffs, a SOG Trident folder, and an AJ Russell Sting. He looked impressed.

"I expect to get those back after this ... stupidity is over." Ziva clutched the inventory sheet angrily.

"We'll see. You'll for sure get back everything that's not NCIS-issue. Excuse me." And, with that, he left. He was glad he didn't have to deal further. All he had to do was collect and secure her weapons, then help stand guard.

Another of the SEALs took his place at once.

Ziva sat down with her back to the window, her usual place. She was quite sure that she would be asked to move as soon as someone came in to question her about whatever it was they had questions about.

While all this was going on, Leon Vance had the chief of his Cyber Crimes Division going over everything Tim had discovered with a fine tooth comb. This made the man grumble, under his breath, "I don't know why I have to do this. If McGee found it, the intel is as good as gold. Especially since it's a member of his own team."

Vance heard him and answered, "Because I need confirmation from outside his team and, granted you're no McGee, you're the best in the Division."

This resulted in hunched shoulders and a rattle of typing. "Okay, okay. On it."

Vance waited patiently while his man did what needed to be done. When he started to speak, Director Vance nodded once then said, "Spare me the details. All I need to know is, did she violate any laws, endanger any ops or operatives, or leave NCIS open to censure."

Division Head James Franklin nodded. "Oh, man, did she ever. I'll email you a list; should I send it to Legal, too?"

"I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out why? Why would she endanger DiNozzo? What does she gain?"

"Well, my opinion, for what it's worth, is, she can't stand a mystery. She did an assessment for Mossad before she came to the US and it was ... 'wrong' is mild for how off it was. She might just want to do that job right. Why? I don't know. Maybe you should turn this whole mess over to the psych guys for an eval." He turned back to his keyboard, satisfied that he'd done his job to the best of his ability and started working on something else.

Leon Vance looked at the back of Agent Franklin's head for a moment, then called Max. After hanging up he went to his office to send all the files to Max for a look.

.  
Abby hugged Tim, carefully asking first, then returned to her keyboard, announcing, "Great! We got her. What was she doing? I don't get it. Why would she be checking Tony's financials? Nosey much. And what else? His medical records back as far as she could find. And his education. Well..." Abby started to read the file, mumbling, "Okay, let's see what ... Oh! My! God! Tim, look."

McGee looked up from the trace he was running to find out where Ziva had sent the intel. "What, Abby? Just a sec." He clicked enter and turned to look at the screen of his NCIS laptop.

Abby tapped one fingernail on the edge of the keyboard until McGee turned to her. "Okay, all done, what is it?"

Abby just pointed to the screen. "Look. Mr. I-have-a-degree-from-MIT."

McGee sighed. "I apologized for that remark two days after I made it. So ... Oh, shit."

Abby nodded. "Yeah."

The list of Tony's Bachelor and Masters degrees wasn't all that long. But it included; Forensics (MS), Phys Ed (BA), Criminal Justice (BS) Ballistics (BS) Mechanical Engineering (BS), Electrical and Computer Engineering (BS), Military Strategy and Tactics (MS) and Ordinance Design (MS) and several pendings.

McGee looked at his sleeping friend then sighed, "How the hell did he manage all that?"

Tony mumbled, "Work smarter, not harder. Lot of down time in the Rockpile and I don't sleep that much. Plus, a lot of those degrees share classes. I never had to take anything twice. So ..." he rolled over and went back to sleep.

McGee gave Abby a slightly sheepish look. "I never took a class twice either but my degrees are in two completely different disciplines. His are interlocking. That doesn't diminish his accomplishments in the least. Taking classes in a war zone." He shook his head in amazement. "Not a chance. I'd never learn a thing."

Abby agreed then said, "I'm all for a Caf-Pow. I've only had one." at Tim's incredulous look she grumbled, "I did promise." She brightened, "So ... Coffee?"

"Please. And something sweet." Tim returned to his computer to check on a few things.

Abby gathered her things and headed out.

Tony grumbled, "Noisy assholes."

Tim snorted and snarked, "And you'd be totally quiet if I was in that bed."

"Well, no, probably not." Tony fumbled for the control on the bed and managed to find it dangling off the edge. "Wonder why these damn things are always just out of reach?"

Tim chuckled, "Probably just to annoy everyone."

"Where's Abby going?"

"Snack run. She'll bring you something. I could call her if you want something specific." Tim waved his phone at Tony.

"No, she'll bring me something good. Whatcha workin' on?"

"Ziva has been acting really odd lately, in case you haven't noticed. She's been on her computer, running searches and I wondered what she was working on. So I snooped a bit. I think she's really overstepped her bounds this time. She was trying to find out what you do on your ops." Tim scowled at his computer, something was hinky still.

Tony rubbed his face with one hand. "Man, that's not good on an epic scale. She is really in trouble. Most of my ops are classed 'burn before reading, shoot yourself in the head after'. If she actually manages to penetrate even the first layer of encryptions, she's committed at least two felonies, maybe more. And, with her connections to Mossad? Now I have a headache."

Tim put his computer aside. "Head. Coffee wants out." He entered the bathroom and closed the door, then opened it to say, "Do not do anything the Boss won't like." Tony gave him the bird before he closed the door.

Tony lay back to consider this new mess Ziva had caused. After a few moments he decided that Ziva was a big girl, all grown up ninja assassin chick, and could handle her own messes. He was done trying to protect her; he'd done his best while she was getting acclimated to the US. She didn't seem to manage to learn. She'd do ok for a while then backslide. He mumbled, "Sad. Really, really sad. I'm done," then something from the open door to the corridor caught his attention.

"He's so sick. I just want to give him this one thing." A woman's voice said,

I know. But there's great hope. The kidney is working and doing more and more. It's just a matter of time." This voice was a man.

"But ... I'm afraid he's giving up." The woman sounded near tears.

Tony wondered what the sick child wanted; it took seconds to find out.

"All he wants is to meet a real SEAL."

The man voice sounded sad. "I have no idea where we'd find one willing to spend time with a kid. They've got more important things to do."

Tony cleared his throat sharply and called, "No, I don't. Come in."

Two surprised faces peeked into the room. "Excuse me?"

Tony motioned with his free hand, the other being strapped to a board to keep him from pulling out the IV by accident. "Come in. I don't feel like yelling across the room. Hurts my ribs."

The man and woman entered a bit hesitantly but came over to the edge of the bed when Tony motioned again.

"You're a SEAL?" The woman didn't look skeptical, only curious.

Tony turned on his brilliant grin and replied, "I know I don't look much like one right now, but yeah, I am."

Tim emerged from the head just then and looked at the couple with confusion. "Hello?"

Tony nodded to Tim. "Overheard a conversation they were having." He turned back to the couple. "Now, start at the top. Tim, take notes please." Tim picked his pad up from the side table and got ready.

The story was simple. The man was from Make A Wish Foundation. The woman was the single mother of a very sick young boy, only 8 years old, and all she wanted was to grant his birthday wish. He wanted to meet a SEAL. He knew he couldn't leave the hospital but he couldn't understand why one couldn't come to him.

Mrs Marsh finished, "So Jonny is going to have to ... er ... suck it up and deal."

Tim shook his head at Tony, knowing it wasn't going to do any good.

"I'll go see him myself, and bring my team." He eyed Tim for a moment then conceded, "If the doctor says I can."

Mrs Marsh put one hand to her mouth, dropped it, then exclaimed, "Oh! How selfish of me. Here you are hurt and I'm just blithering on."

Tony smiled again. "No. That's fine. I just have a couple of broken ribs and a broken clavicle."

"Don't forget the punctured lung. And here comes the breathing treatment."

Tony groaned. "Man, I hate that thing. It hurts."

Mrs. Marsh giggled a bit. "Jonny says the same thing. But how can just breathing in and out hurt?"

The respiratory therapist took that question and ran with it. "Well, see, one, the machine provides positive resistance on the in- and exhale. And it makes steam, which also produces some discomfort. Now ..." the therapist looked at her clipboard and sighed, "Sir, I trust you are not going to pull rank on me?"

Tony sat the bed up and reached for the mouthpiece. "No, won't do any good. I've already got orders from my CO. Just make a note on your med orders that I don't take opiates of any kind, ever."

"Ok, got it." The therapist prepared to wait out the ten-minute treatment.

Tim pulled Mrs Marsh and Mr Lynch aside telling them, "Come with me. I'll need some information. I'll set everything up and we'll get Jonny his wish. If Dr. Pitt will allow it, Tony will come. If not, I'll see if one, or more, of Tony's team will do it. Failing that, I'll get in touch with the East Coast command. We'll make this happen, one way or another."

He settled in to find out everything the boy wanted and what his doctor would allow.

He finished his notes quickly, agreed with Mrs Marsh that he needed to speak directly to Jonny's doctor, shook hands with Mr Lynch and agreed to call him ASAP and went off to deal.

It only took him an hour or two to set everything up. He returned to Tony's room to find Abby gone and Cosmo and Dean playing cards with Tony. They were using the tiny rolling table and Dean was accusing Tony of sneaking looks at his cards.

Tony snorted rudely. "Not. You're just a whiny little looser. Bitch."

"Fuck you, AJ. I'm only loosing because you're cheating. Pig."

Tony replied to that comment by making grunting noises.

Cosmo just put his cards down, announced, "Royal Flush. Read 'em and weep. And you're both whiny little bitches."

Tim sighed, he didn't understand why talking to each other like that was ok. He just knew that it was. "Okay, break it up. You know you're going to scare the nurses. So... Tony. I got all the particulars on Jonny Marsh. He can't leave the hospital because he's hooked up to a kidney machine right now. His operation was a success and the kidney is beginning normal function. He'll be okay, in about three months. If he doesn't give up. But ... well, he's been sick so long that he has just about done exactly that."

Cosmo asked a good question. "What about his other kidney?"

"No, it was atrophied at birth. They took it out when they did the transplant. It was getting necrotic." Tim shook his head. "If he can just hold out until the new kidney takes over, he'll be fine. All he'll have to do is take medication to keep from rejecting it. Two pills a day. The bad part is, he's got a bronchial infection on top of everything else and he's just really miserable right now."

Tim turned hopeful eyes to the two other SEALs. "Will you go see him too? All he wants is to meet a SEAL, if I can get the whole team to see him ... well, it couldn't hurt."

Cosmo snorted softly, "You have to ask?"

"It's polite."

Dean made a rude noise. "Digimon. Seriously?"

"Ok, I'll put you both down. I'll call Remy and ask him."

Tony nodded. "He'll be up for it. Someone needs to get my uniform and ... not sure what all."

Tim looked at Tony for a moment then blinked; he'd obviously had an idea. "Maybe not. His mom says that he wants to be like a SEAL because they never get sick or hurt. I think you should show him that that's not true. That SEALs do get hurt or sick. It's how they deal that counts."

Tony thought about that for a moment then agreed. "Yeah, I see your point. Ok, but Dean, Cosmo and Remy need to wear their blacks. And get him some stuff." He looked at Cosmo. "You know ... a cap or utility cover, a shemagh, a rank patch of some kind. And, go to the NEX and get him some PT gear."

Cosmo nodded. "I'll get right on it. As soon as I'm relieved of DiNozzo watch."

Tony gave him a hairy eyeball but subsided when Cosmo just eyed him right back. He huffed in irritation then groaned as his ribs told him that was not such a good idea.

Due to their high level of physical health, most SEALs healed with near superhuman speed. But they did need to take time to get back to full health. Tony had been ignoring his body for months, so he was paying the price. As Gibbs had told him, 'There's only so many spoons in the jar, keep takin' 'em out at this rate, you'll have nothing left when you need it.' He knew he had to cut back and rest, so he did. It amused him to no end that everyone was waiting for him to escape, or be difficult.

He slept through Dean and Cosmo's watch, only waking when Gibbs patted his foot and asked, "You up for something to eat?"

Tony rubbed his eyes, looking like a two year old waking up from a nap, and managed to focus on Gibbs and Remy. "Mmmm, something smells like real food. What is it?"

"Meat ball sub from that place you like." Gibbs set the sandwich on the rolling tray and sat down. "Eat it before it gets cold."

Tony picked it up and was just about to take a bite when a new nurse scurried in to do the 'health check' thing. "Oh, no, you don't." She reached out to snatch the sandwich out of Tony's hand.

This resulted in a case of food guarding that startled Gibbs. "Off! Mine!" Tony got his shoulder between the nurse's grab and his sandwich. Remy got between Tony and the nurse.

Gibbs watched this odd ballet for a moment. The nurse made a snatch at the sandwich, Tony got between her and the food and Remy got between the nurse and Tony. He finally bellowed, "TEN HUT!"

The nurse snapped to, never mind that she was a Captain, and Gibbs, technically, had no rank.

He eyed her up then nodded to Remy, who was also at attention. "At ease, Master Chief Petty Officer Devereaux." Remy relaxed to 'at ease' while the Captain remained at attention. "As you were, Master Chief." Remy returned to his chair to watch the fun.

Gibbs turned to the Captain to demand, "As for you, Captain Shanks. What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Sir! Patients are not allowed unauthorized foods, sir." The Captain rolled her eyes at Gibbs, trying to see who he was.

Tony ordered, "Eyes front, Captain."

Gibbs nodded to him then demanded, "Have you read his chart?"

"Sir! No, sir. But..."

"I sit on mine, Captain. Obviously, you think with yours. Otherwise you would know that Lieutenant-Commander DiNozzo is allowed any foods. No restrictions. Dismissed." Gibbs hadn't lost his 'DI bark' even though he'd never been one.

The Captain scurried out the door to read Tony's chart.

Gibbs turned back to Tony. "Ok, mind explaining that little bit of ... whatever that was."

Tony took a bite of his sandwich then explained around it. "Don't tend to feed POW's much. Waste of resources."

Gibbs gave Remy a horrified look then muttered, "Well, shit."

Remy agreed saying, "Well, they do tend to get a little rough."

Tony swallowed then added, "Fifteen yard penalty."

Remy nodded sagely, "Right, per offense."

Tony thought about that through two more huge bites. "Um ... That'd put 'em in the Alps somewhere."

"Just about." Remy nodded to Gibbs, who felt a bit blind-sided. "Don't sweat it. All over. We're ... ok. Maybe even fine."

Tony agreed, "Yeah. And workin' on good."

Gibbs gave up. They obviously didn't want to discuss it and far be it from him to force the issue.

The tension was relieved by the Head of Nurses, who demanded, "Not that I blame any of you but who was terrorizing my nurse?"

Tony promptly threw Gibbs under the proverbial bus. "Him."

Gibbs shot him a dirty look but 'fessed up. "She was trying to take his food. We're having enough trouble keeping weight on him without her taking his food away. And, how the hell you expect anyone to get well, eating that crap, is beyond me."

The Major just snickered. "Marine?" Gibbs nodded. "Well, take it up with Nutrition. As for me, I'd rather eat an MRE. And I made sure that everyone knows that Lieutenant Commander DiNozzo is allowed anything he can keep down."

Tony thought about that for a moment then asked, "Sort of off subject but ... you've got a kid here. Jonny Marsh, kidney transplant. I was wondering what he could have brought in, something sorta special. It's his birthday ... tomorrow?"

The Major thought for a moment then admitted, "I don't know anything about him. Why do you ask?"

So Tony explained about his wish and that he and his team were going to grant it.

"Ok, I'll see what I can find out. If he's far enough along, he shouldn't have too many restrictions. Only salt and artificial sweeteners. Anything hard for kidneys, or kidney in this case, to process. Be back ASAP."

She returned quickly to say that his favorite foods were grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup and chocolate ice cream. All of which he could have, wanted but wouldn't eat the hospital version of. Tony announced that he didn't blame him. They'd deal.

.

Ziva sat in the interrogation room, glowering at Max. "I've done nothing wrong. I only was curious."

Max noted two things. Ziva was defensive, her crossed arms and back leaning stance proved that. And her English had gone to shit. She always wound up using Hebrew syntax when she was upset.

"I see. And, satisfying your curiosity justifies attempting to crack the SEALs' computer systems?" Max could look very stern when he wanted, and he wanted. He was concerned that someone who had gone to a great deal of trouble to distance herself from her homeland and former comrades might have fooled them all. The security leak was either huge or nonexistent.

"No ... I suppose not. But ... it seemed ..." Ziva rubbed her forehead. Her head was splitting again.

"Agent David, is there a problem?" Max eyed Ziva. She had dark circles under her eyes; signs of strain puckered the lids. Her mouth was set in a grim line that didn't look good on her pretty face.

"No! No problem. I just have another headache." Ziva wasn't sure where all this was going, she just knew it wasn't good for her.

Max made another note then jumped as someone slammed a door down the corridor. Ziva, on the other hand, groped for a weapon she didn't have while ducking under the table. She actually made it under it before she realized there was no threat.

Max watched Ziva as she reclaimed her chair, red faced. "Well, I see." He closed his file folder and got up. "Excuse me." He left, leaving Ziva to wonder what that was all about.

Director Vance, who had been watching through the glass, met Max in the corridor. "What is your verdict?"

"PTSD. It's manifesting in various ways. One, the need to correct her profile on ... er ... Agent? DiNozzo. Two, she's jumpy, not sleeping, suffering from indeterminate stress. I'm not sure what else. But I will say that she's not fit for duty. Perhaps she'll never be fit for field duty again." Max managed an expression of mixed sorrow and disgust.

Vance chewed his toothpick for a moment. "Where did it come from? She had counseling after the Somalia incident. But ... I don't know. Did she fool her therapist?"

Max thought about that for a moment. "I don't think so. But PTSD can be triggered months or years after the incident. Everyone says she's been acting 'weird' since that raid a couple of months ago. Something then might have triggered this. We'll just have to put her in therapy and see."

Vance took his toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at Max. "I want you to handle it yourself. Put her on restricted duty. Filing or something, until we're sure she's not a security risk. Then ... we'll see."

Max nodded. "That's good. I don't think NCIS will have to let her go, I hope not. It doesn't look good for one. For another, we owe her. She's worked here for years, given the best she had to give. It's not her fault. We need to do our best for her."

Vance agreed. "You're right. And right now, our best is to take her out of the field and get her into therapy. If the therapy works, do you think she'll be able to go back into the field?"

Max shook his head. "No idea. We'll just have to wait and see, like I said." He sighed, finished filling out the paperwork and handed it to Vance. "Sign here. And here."

Vance signed.

.

Gibbs nodded to Dean and Cosmo as they left. They'd stayed past the end of their shift, just chewing the fat and playing cards. It was now 10pm and Tony was visibly drooping.

"DiNozzo, go to sleep."

"Ok, Boss. If Tim comes in, wake me. It's important." Tony fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

Gibbs wasn't the least bit offended; he'd done the same thing to his battle buddies many times. He did wonder what business Tim had with Tony but decided to wait until Tim came in to find out.

Remy announced, "Coffee run," and wandered out.

.

Tim McGee spent the afternoon making all the arrangements to get Tony from his bed to Jonny's. It wasn't as difficult as he'd thought it might be. All he needed was the boy's mother's approval, which he had. And a little help from Make A Wish, in the form of keeping the boy amused while they sneaked Tony down. The cake and ice cream were easy— Dean would pick them up from the bakery and grocery store on his way in. Cosmo was going to get all the 'goodies' at the base, and the NEX.

Now, all he had to do was tell Tony. He glanced at his watch. It was late, but he'd had to squeeze a quick trip to Cyber Crimes in as well. He knew Ziva was in trouble but he couldn't help her. All he could do was obey Vance's orders to keep things on the low down, there was enough gossip as it was. He'd turned all his records over to the Director, erased his copies and returned to the hospital. He was pretty sure Gibbs was going to kill him. But, he'd had to choose, and he had.

.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was nobody's fool. He knew that something was off the second his phone rang. This was not the time for someone to be calling him for a social chat. The fact that Leon Vance had called him from his personal phone, instead of the office phone, was a dead giveaway.

"Leon."

"Gibbs, bad news." Director Vance knew Gibbs was going to have a fit so he stopped to collect his thoughts. "It's Ziva David."

"What happened? Is she okay?" Gibbs felt his heart contract.

"Physically. But she's in trouble."

"Okay, do I have to come back to the Yard and drag it out of you by main force?" Gibbs was getting impatient.

Leon Vance got himself together and told Gibbs the whole story, ending, "I'm doing my best for her. I know you don't think I care, but I really do. My job is always a balancing act, this time there's no question but what NCIS will do its very best for her. But she's out of the field. Probably permanently."

Gibbs rubbed his face. "PTSD? Well, fuck. Okay. What do you need me to do?"

"Just don't cause a huge scene, trying to save her bacon. It's already burnt. Max is going to take her on personally. I've spoken with him a bit and he wants her away from DC. There's a couple of nice places we send burnout cases to. I'm giving her a choice. You'll be kept apprised of her condition and allowed to speak to her and visit as soon as Max says it won't put her recovery back."

Gibbs thought about it for a moment then just said, "Okay. I'll tell the rest of my team. You handle Ducky and Palmer?" He made the last a question.

"Yes. I'll do that. There will have to be some sort of general announcement as well." Vance wasn't in any mood for that sort of thing but it was his duty.

"I'd let the spin doctors handle that, if I were you." Gibbs didn't like the Publicity Department much, but they had a job, let them do it.

"Very well. I'll give someone a heads up. Memo tomorrow, that sort of thing." He looked up, Ducky was at the door. "Dr Mallard is here." Vance pulled a Gibbs and just hung up his phone.

He dealt quickly. Dr Mallard was unhappy but said that he'd known something was going on with Miss David. He was, after all, a trained forensic psychologist.

Jimmy Palmer sighed. "Well, damn. I knew something was wrong. Director?"

"Yes, Mr Palmer." Leon waited for some accusation.

"Is there anything that I, personally, could have done?" The concern on the young man's face was plain, open and honest.

"No. It's doubtful that she'll accept the help she needs this time. All we can do is offer and hope. You would have helped if you'd known she needed it. I know this. But she has to be ready to admit that something is wrong." This was his greatest concern. If Ziva didn't believe she needed help, she wouldn't accept it. And, after the 30-day psych evaluation, they had two options; release her, or charge her. He didn't want to do either.

Ducky nattered on for a few moments before he realized that no one was listening to him. He didn't get upset, he was used to it. And, he realized, his story about a man he'd known in the early '80's wasn't really germane. He decided to be least in sight. "Mr Palmer, I have some things I need to do downstairs. Mr Director." He nodded to Vance then tugged Jimmy gently out the door. "Come along, Mr Palmer, I'm sure the Director has a great deal to do."

They returned to Autopsy for tea and commiseration. Ducky finally managed to get Jimmy to realize that he really couldn't have known. Ziva was much too good at dissembling.

"Now, Mr Palmer, please realize that we both did what we knew how to do. We'll be better served to support her team while they deal. More tea?" He offered Jimmy more tea, which he accepted.

"I'll do my best. But ... what about Tony and his team? I think they like Ziva."

"Jethro will deal with all that. Relax."

They settled to drink tea and await the upcoming storm.

.

Gibbs eyed his phone for a moment, then forcefully prevented himself from throwing it at the wall.

Tony's voice distracted him. "Boss?"

"I'll tell you when I tell the others. I don't want to go through this twice." He started dialing.

"Ok, Boss. Just ... is it bad?" Tony braced himself to hear that Tim had been shot or something.

"It's not good, but no life-in-the-balance stuff." Gibbs' tone of voice reassured Tony more than the words.

Tim showed up in five minutes with Abby close behind him. Cosmo and Dean ambled back in a few minutes after that. Remy called to say he'd be there soon. He was in the lobby on his way to the elevators.

The second Remy entered the door, with his coffee tray in hand, he began to whine. "Damn it, AJ. I didn't get enough to go around. Why didn't you call and tell me there were extra."

Tony barked, "Shut it, LeBeau. Got problems."

Remy shut up at once, handed out the coffees he'd brought and then leaned against the wall.

Gibbs accepted his coffee with a soft 'thanks'. He waited until everyone was set and settled then announced, "Ok. No interruptions until I'm done. I don't know much, Tim knows some more." He then told them everything he knew about Ziva and her mess.

Dean frowned for a moment then announced, "Well, she's got a raging case of PTSD, or I miss my guess. She'll get off on reduced mental capacity. But she'll never get a high clearance again. Can't trust that she won't relapse. AJ?"

Tony looked so weary that Gibbs actually took a step towards him, Remy put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "I could call SecNav, but I don't think it'll do any good. Vance has probably already covered that. Suggestions?"

Cosmo shook his head. "Let NCIS heal its own."

The rest of the group agreed, in various forms. Abby didn't say anything, as she was, typically Abby, in tears.

Tony jerked his head at Tim who settled down beside her to calm her down.

"Ok, people, general consensus is: we can't help, keep an eye on the situation and get in touch when allowed. Agreed?"

Nods and 'yes'es from around the room tabled more discussion.

Tony leaned back against his pillows, hurt evident on his face. Tim got up and went to grip his shoulder gently. Gibbs took the other side and picked up his hand. Abby carefully settled on the bed, curled up by Tony's side.

The rest of the group gave them a bit of time to deal.

Gibbs finally sighed and announced, "Okay, enough with the ... whatever. Tim?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"What's going on?"

Tony took this opportunity to explain about Jonny Marsh and what they were doing for him.

Gibbs nodded. "Okay, need any help?"

"All we can get, Boss."

It didn't take long for Tim to explain things to everyone. He concluded by saying, "So, all the arrangements are made. All we have to do is carry it out. I've sent everyone an email with their chores in it. Abby, I've put you in charge of getting balloons and streamers. No funny hats, please. Remy is getting Jonny a utility cover and a Dixie-cup." He turned to Remy. "Anything else?"

Remy nodded, a big grin on his face. "I got him a set of dog-tags made up. Got all the info from his records. And a set of PT's. Hope the kid looks good in mustard yellow." He grimaced, every SEAL hated the standard issue yellow t-shirt and blue shorts.

Abby couldn't help it, she poked Dean and stage whispered, "What's a Dixie-cup?"

"Squid lid. White canvas bowl hat. POGs call 'em 'sailor hats'." Dean liked Abby so he poked her in the ribs to make her giggle.

Abby obediently giggled, then she asked, "Ok. So what's a POG?"

"People Other than Grunts. Never-been-shot-at sort." Gibbs tugged at Abby. "Off the bed, before you mess DiNozzo up again."

Abby pouted but got off. "Ok. Tony ..." She turned to Tony. "You know I never meant to hurt you."

Tony nodded. "I know. And that's the last time you say that. You've apologized enough. Guilt doesn't suit you, Abs." He turned to Gibbs. "Leave it, Boss. Enough is enough."

Gibbs eyed Abby for a moment then agreed, "Ok. Just makin' sure she's got it. I do not want her to get a formal, or fired. Got me?"

They finished discussing the arrangements for the next day, then Gibbs sent everyone home, telling them all, "Go home. Rest. That kid'll wear us all out."

Remy snorted, "He's what? Like ten?"

"Yeah, he's ten." Gibbs shook his head. "Even a sick kid that age has more questions than an inquisitor. Go."

They all headed out to get some rest, except for Gibbs and Remy. They were on DiNozzo Watch.

Tony didn't even argue when the respiratory therapist brought in her 'devil machine' and gave him the mouthpiece. He just sucked it up and did as ordered. The therapist didn't realize that Tony outranked her by about six pay grades. She was just glad that the legendary LCMD DiNozzo was being cooperative, for once.

.

Five AM came early enough without the banging and clatter of shift change. Gibbs rubbed his eyes and stretched; the recliner was more comfortable than a sniper's nest, but Gibbs admitted that he wasn't 30 anymore.

Tony woke to the noise as well and grumbled, "How the hell do they expect sick people to get better when they make noise at fucking oh-dark-whatever in the damn morning. Rest my ass; I get more rest on a damn stakeout."

Gibbs was inclined to agree with him, Remy did; loudly, profanely and with anecdotes.

Tony replied to that by snarling, "LeBeau, shut the fuck up. I'm tryin' to sleep here."

Remy observed him for a moment then shrugged, "You're not goin' back to sleep. You've slept yourself out several times over. You know damn good an' well that you get bitchy when you oversleep."

Tony just rolled over and gave him a bird over his shoulder for his trouble.

"No, you got the wrong equipment, besides, you're ugly." Remy flopped back in his recliner and grumbled about the lack of breakfast.

Gibbs decided that 5 am wasn't too early to go in search of 'real' coffee. "Goin' for coffee. Want?"

Remy nodded. "Thanks."

Tony also nodded. "With crap, please."

Gibbs snorted but left without comment. He was well aware that Tony had some tricks to remind himself of where he was. Coffee with 'crap', in other words, hazelnut creamer and sugar, he was home; coffee black, he was in the Box. Gibbs had had a few of those tricks himself.

His return was met with loud complaints from Tony.

"NO! I am not eating that shit. It's not even real. I hate instant oatmeal worse than regular. It looks like shit and tastes like wallpaper paste. Take it away."

Then Remy's voice chimed in, "If you're so eager to have him eat it ... try it yourself. If you can choke down a whole bowl of that baby crap, AJ will eat it too."

Gibbs walked in just in time to keep the new morning nurse from trying to spoon feed Tony.

"Out! I'll see that he has something he'll actually eat." The nurse tried to argue but Gibbs just talked over her. "He's got orders that say he can have anything he wants. He doesn't want that. I wouldn't feed the food in this squat to my dog. If I had a dog. Out!" This time the nurse left, grumbling that she was just trying to do her job. Gibbs called after her, "I appreciate that. Just do it elsewhere."

He called Abby to find out when she was coming, realizing after the fact that it was still way too early for the late-rising Goth. Her reply had been more than a bit incoherent and consisted of the information that he was a 'bad, bad man' and she wasn't getting up until 8am or later.

His call to Tim got better results. Tim promised to bring breakfast burritos and coffee as he needed to come to the hospital to finish the arrangements for the party.

He looked up to see Jimmy Palmer giving a loudly complaining Tony a quick once over.

He waited until Palmer had politely told Tony. "AJ, you're acting like a two-year-old. Sit up." Tony grumbled but did as he was told; mostly because Gibbs gave him a hairy eyeball over Jimmy's shoulder.

Jimmy smiled at Tony, rambling absently to keep his mind off the exam. "You know, Gremlins, not the ones in the movie, but the original World War Two ones, are actually rather dangerous. They get in machinery and make it malfunction. They create chaos and disaster whereever they go. Not that I do, but ... I think, if I had to, I could do some damage. I kinda like the nickname Gremlin; although the Autopsy part is a bit ... odd."

Remy ignored the ramble after making sure their nickname for him didn't offend Jimmy.

Jimmy finished what he was doing and turned around. "Well, he's as good as can be expected. The breathing treatments are clearing up the congestion, his ribs are healing well and his collarbone too. I'd suggest he get more calcium as people his age tend to scavenge other bone for the materials to mend the broken one." He grinned at Tony. "I'd suggest double doses of such meds as ice cream and milk shakes. Cheese. That sort of thing."

Tony grinned back. "What about Ducky? Where's he?"

Jimmy laughed. "He sent me. He said he's much too old to be getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to make sure you eat right. He'll be here about eleven. What time is the party?"

Tim answered that one. "I made arrangements for us to be in the little guy's room for his lunch, which is about one." He made a face. "I checked to see if pizza and ice cream are on his diet. They actually are but he's been restricted to hospital food by some jackass or other. I ordered a cake, and pizza. Remy, you'll need to leave to get both, but the cake isn't frozen or anything so it might be a good idea to pick that up first."

Remy just gave Tim a sloppy salute and ambled out, calling over his shoulder. "I'm gone. Gonna get some sleep and a shower. I'll be back with pizza, cake and ice cream. Twelve on the dot."

.

Cosmo and Dean showed up at about 10:30, joined at the hip, now that they were living together again.

Tony was up, in a wheelchair and complaining. Gibbs was dealing with it by being stoic and silent. He still hadn't learned that this attitude only spurred Tony into ever more outrageous behavior.

Abby was ignoring both of them as she was busily attaching balloons to Tony's wheelchair.

Tim wasn't there as he was downstairs, making sure all the arrangements for the party were completed. Remy was to meet him there with the refreshments.

Ducky had wanted to be there, but a murdered Marine Captain prevented it, and Jimmy was on watch-and-watch between the hospital and NCIS, so he was with Ducky, and very disappointed about it.


	5. Chapter 5

All standard disclaimers still apply.

.

chapter 5

After all the preparations, the party was everything they'd wanted it to be.

Tony was wheeled into the room by Gibbs. "Hey, there. I heard that a certain someone wanted to meet a SEAL."

Jonny looked up from his book with a disinterested sigh. "Yeah, but SEALs are really ..." he didn't finish his sentence, instead he let out a delighted squeal. "SEALs!"

Tony laughed, a genuine, hearty thing that warmed everyone who heard it. "Yes, SEALs." He motioned to Remy, Dean, Cosmo, then himself. "All of us."

Jonny eyed Tony for a moment then asked, "Ok, if you're a SEAL, why are you in a wheelchair?"

Tony started to shrug then winced, "Got hurt. Broken ribs, punctured lung, broken collarbone, bruises up the wazoo. So, hospital."

"How'd you get hurt?"

Tony wasn't about to tell a kid that Abby had hugged him so he gave a half truth instead. "Long mission. Chopper crashed. The usual."

Jonny looked suitably impressed. "Really? Wow. That must have really hurt."

Tony nodded, "Did. Kinda sucked too."

Remy nudged Tony. "Oh, yeah. Got you some stuff." He detached the bunch of balloons Abby had fixed and gave them to Cosmo, who attached them to the head of Jonny's bed. He gave him the white Dixie-cup, saying, "Squid lid. And a utility cover. Fork and Chicken. And PT gear. Also got ... he fished around and found the NCIS ball cap. "An NCIS cover."

Jonny took it happily enough but asked, "What's NCIS?"

Cosmo loomed over Tony's shoulder. "Navy cops. Big deal. They investigate murder and stuff." it was explanation enough for a ten-year-old.

Abby smiled from the door, leaning on Gibbs as the four SEALs made a little boy's day a bit brighter.

They were interrupted by a respiratory therapist and Mrs Marsh.

Jonny groaned, "It's my birthday."

Mrs Marsh scolded. "Yes, but you still need your treatment. I'm sure these gentlemen can wait a bit." Her eyes pleaded with them. "Maybe they need to go see to the rest of the party?"

Jonny crowed, "Party! Yay!" then groaned again as the therapist readied the machine. "Oh, man, I hate that thing."

Now, Jonny, it's good for you." Mrs Marsh trotted out the old chestnut hopefully.

"But, Mom, it tastes like butt."

"Jonny Marsh, you watch your mouth!"

Tony snuck a look at Gibbs whose shoulders were shaking slightly. Abby had her face tucked into the crook of Gibbs neck and she was obviously giggling.

"Well, it does," Tony announced. "I've got a treatment soon. And it really does." He gave Mrs Marsh an indecipherable look. "I think every parent ought to have to take any non-invasive treatment just once."

"Ok, I'll give it a try. And, you, young man, will not complain anymore. Okay?" She put on her 'mom' face and took the mask from the therapist. She took a deep breath, just as she'd been instructing her son to do, coughed, gagged and exclaimed, "Oh, that is foul. Ick!"

"Told ya." Jonny was having nothing to do with her apologetic face. "Okay. I'll take it." He sighed heavily.

Tony sighed too. "I have to have one soon." He looked at the therapist. "Maybe we could do it together?"

"Not a problem, sir." The Petty Officer set up a mouthpiece and amped up the pressure in the machine so it could handle both setups.

Tony took the mouthpiece and inhaled, this was going to suck. Literally.

Jonny watched over the mask he wore. "Mom, why does he get a mouth thing and I have to have this stupid mask?"

They all turned to the therapist. "Because you just have a bad cold, sort of, while LCMD DiNozzo has all sorts of stuff in his lung from where it got punctured. The mouthpiece encourages him to breath hard to get it all out."

Tony sucked on the mouthpiece, making the machine bubble. When they were done with the treatment, Jonny was ready to party. Tony, on the other hand, was coughing up a lung. Or the crap in it, he wasn't too sure which.

Gibbs rubbed his back, while Remy kept handing him tissues to spit the gunk into.

Jonny watched all this with wide eyes. "I thought SEALs never got sick?"

"Oh, we do. We just never give up. Ever. If you give up ..." Tony rolled his eyes at Gibbs, his usual comment of 'If you give up, you're fucked up.' wasn't suitable.

Gibbs patted Tony on the shoulder. "If you give up, the Marines will have to rescue you. And that's just not on." He smiled at the little boy in that special way he had with kids.

Jonny blinked solemnly for a moment. "Well, there's nothing wrong with being a Marine. Just, I wish I could be a SEAL. I like swimming."

Abby went 'aw' but they all realized that someone was going to have to tell Jonny that, with only one transplanted kidney, there was no chance of him even entering the military at all.

But, it seemed, he already knew that. "But, I don't guess I get that wish." He fingered his goodies for a moment.

Cosmo picked up the SEAL collar emblem they'd given him as part of his gift. "Well, no. But we can make you an honorary one. Here." He carefully pinned the emblem on Jonny's PJ's "One Fork and Chicken. There you go."

Mrs Marsh eyed the bit of metal then asked, "Why do you call something so nice a Fork and Chicken?"

Dean laughed. "It's actually called the Eagle and Trident but we're all a bunch of irreverent idiots. So ... it's a Fork and Chicken. But only SEALs can call it that."

"True fact." Tony nodded. "Okay, I'm good now. Party time."

Jonny cheered as did Abby. "Great. Remy?"

"All set up. Let's go."

So Dean and Cosmo got Jonny into a wheelchair; he could be disconnected from the machines for up to two hours without ill effects. They wheeled him to the day room down the hall, much to his delight.

Tony looked over his shoulder at Gibbs, who was pushing him. "We did good, right, Boss?"

Gibbs smiled down at his friend. "You did good."

Remy motioned to them all to get into the room. "Hurry up. More presents and cake and ice cream."

Jonny was delighted to get a chess set from a school friend. It seemed that he was a budding chess star and was actually playing a game on line. He wanted the set because he was having trouble visualizing the game on the monitor. Tim challenged him to a game after cake and ice cream.

He also got books, and game cartridges for his hand-held. He passed everything around so that everyone could see his presents.

Tony noticed a lack of other children, not a single other one was in the dayroom. When he asked a nearby nurse, he was told that they didn't have many children on a bad day. Jonny was one of only six or so in the whole hospital. The children were usually sent to other hospitals around the city, Bethesda specialized in battle injuries and such. It was just that the kidney specialist was based here.

They sat around eating their cake and told Jonny stories. Stories about NCIS, cases fit for a young boy. And stories, suitably edited, of missions that weren't so top-secret now. Abby explained to Jonny what she did, and all about her machines, her babies. He was suitably impressed with it all.

Finally, Mrs Marsh called a halt to all the fun. "Ok, people, we need to wind this down." She pointed to Jonny, who was nearly asleep, sitting in Tony's lap. He was nodding hard, jerking his head up, so as not to slip out of the chair. Tony was half out of it too.

Gibbs steadied the chair as Remy eased Jonny out of Tony's lap. Tony opened his eyes, mumbled, "Oh, LeBeau, got him?"

Remy grunted, "Yeah," and headed for the door with Mrs Marsh and two nurses in tow.

"Tired?" Gibbs watched with some amusement as Tony struggled to stay awake.

"Yeah, you were right. I never got asked so many questions by a friendly in my life."

Gibbs patted him on the arm. "I'm takin' you back to your room. Come on."

Tony didn't put up a fight, in fact, he nearly fell asleep in the chair on his way back to the room.

Gibbs was startled to find that Tony didn't even object when the day nurse reinserted the IV.

This led to him making a mistake.

Gibbs eyed Tony, decided he was settled for at least an hour or two so he motioned to Remy. "Come on. I'll buy you a burger."

Remy looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "You sure? Badger could take off while we're out."

Gibbs snorted. "Look at him. He's out, cold. Let's go."

Remy decided that Gibbs needed an object lesson. Tony wouldn't do himself any damage at this point and missing three or four breathing treatments ... well, Tony had a machine at his apartment and he'd use it. "Okay."

.

Gibbs eyed the empty bed with fury. "Son of a bitch! How does he do that?"

Remy shrugged, "Escaped from SERE training. Decided he wasn't happy with the food. Escaped from Al Qaida prisons twice. And some damn place in Libya. Hospital's a cracker box. He's probably at home." Remy considered that for a moment. "Or in base housing somewhere."

The stream of profanity that greeted this statement impressed Remy and the janitor moping the corridor.

The nursing staff, on the other hand, was not impressed. The supervisor, when confronted, announced that, "If he wants to check himself out AMA, there's not much we can do. We gave him his medications and let him go."

Gibbs snarled wordlessly and stormed off.

Remy followed him, chuckling softly.

"That's right, squid, yuck it up. Where the hell would he go?" Gibbs was more worried than he wanted to admit. He remembered how sick Tony had been when he'd gotten the plague.

Remy thought seriously for a moment. "Base housing. He'll go to ground there. He'll know you'll look at his place first. Then ... would he show up at your place?"

"No. He knows Dean and Cosmo are there. I'll call them anyway." A quick call assured Gibbs that Dean and Cosmo were at his house and that they would keep an eye out for Tony. Neither one of them thought that Tony would show up there.

No one knew that Tony had logic-ed it out and decided that going back to his own place was the best option. No one would expect him to do that. They were probably searching Quantico about now.

He settled in his own bed, breathing machine beside it. He set the alarm to wake him, in case he didn't wake by himself. And settled down to get some real sleep. He dozed in the hospital; all the noise, smells and activity around him, kept him from getting any real sleep.

He was awakened at dusk by the sound of a key in his door. He opened his eyes and slipped his hand under his pillow to grasp the Judge he kept there.

"Don't shoot me. Gibbs and Ducky would both have a fit." Jimmy Palmer stood right in the door way, making sure that Tony knew he was no threat.

Tony tucked his weapon away, then sat up. He rubbed his face with both hands, mumbling, "Gremlin, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Heard you escaped. I decided I'd better check on you." Jimmy produced his stethoscope. "Lean forward for me."

Tony obeyed. It didn't take Jimmy long to announce, "Well, you haven't done yourself any damage. Lungs sound good. How do your ribs feel?"

"Okay. Bit sore. And so is my collarbone. I pressed on it and it hurt, but I think it's the incision. I hope that fucking plate doesn't have to come off. I really don't want to be cut open again so soon." Tony was well aware that the plate on his collarbone might cause problems carrying a pack. He hoped not and said so to Jimmy.

Dr. J. Palmer wasn't an optimist when it came to Tony. "Yeah, well, wish in one hand and shit in the other, as Gibbs would say."

Tony agreed. "Okay, yeah, so ... what now?"

"Treatment while I figure out something to eat. I'm starved." Jimmy grinned at Tony. "Want me to set up the machine?"

Tony grimaced, he wasn't looking forward to the taste of the meds, Jonny was right, it did taste like butt. "No, I've got it. Ten minutes and I want something fit to eat. And do not call Gibbs, Devereaux, Cale, or Richter. Got me?"

Jimmy nodded. "Got you." So he went to deal with something fit to eat. He didn't call anyone, just like he'd promised. He sent a text.

Ducky eyed his phone for a moment then swore softly. "Damn that boy. Well." He knew that Tony wanted to be left alone. He also knew it wasn't a good idea. He thought about it for a few moments then did what he did best, delegate.

Abby answered her phone. "Abby. Live and all that." She listened to Ducky then replied, "I think, if Jimmy is there and staying, we should just leave well enough alone. I'll deal with Gibbs. Bye."

Ducky went up to see Director Vance and give him the news.

Leon Vance eyed his compatriot for a moment then demanded, "You're standing there and telling me that DiNozzo took off from the hospital AMA and no one has any idea where he is except Palmer and he's not telling?"

Ducky nodded. "Indeed I am. He is in good hands. Mr Palmer should actually be called Dr Palmer, he's an intern after all."

Vance allowed himself to be sidetracked. "He's an intern? And working here? How the hell is he managing that?"

"I let him sleep on my couch when we're not busy. And I manage by myself when he's on duty. It's not that much of an inconvenience. If I need help with moving a body, I can always just call security." Ducky smiled slightly. "That is always an interesting experience."

"I bet. Well, if you need more help while Dr Palmer is working double time, let me know. I do want to keep him on board, if it is at all possible."

"Dr Palmer has always claimed that his dream is to become an ME. I've taken him under my wing and plan that he should take over when I retire. I'll continue to consult with NICS as well as other agencies." Ducky realized that Vance was a bit shocked by this revelation. "However, those plans are for the future. I have no intention of retiring as long as I am physically capable of carrying out my duties."

"Glad to hear that. Now, as to DiNozzo. Do I actually need to do anything, or can I concentrate on sorting out the David problem?"

"I'll let James deal with Tony; he'll call me, or Gibbs, if he needs help. Miss David is more in need, at the moment." Ducky nodded to the Director. "Mr Director," and left secure in the knowledge that he'd done his duty by all his friends.

.

Abby called Gibbs, for once her bubbly enthusiasm was subdued. "Gibbs, do not throw a tizzy. Tony's at his place."

"Okay, Abs. Just tell me he's okay." Gibbs made a 'cut throat' gesture to the squad leader on standby. He'd been just about to send out his MP's to try to track Tony down. No one wanted a sick and possibly hallucinating SEAL wandering around Quantico.

Abby replied, "He is, Palmer is with him. He sent a text to Ducky, who called me. He's going to tell Vance before he gets a call from Bethesda."

"Good. I'll go around and check on him. You call his team yet?" Gibbs closed his phone without waiting for an answer. "Call off the search, Gunny; he went home to his apartment."

"Well, damn. That man is going to be the death of me yet. We've had a search called on him at least three times. Why don't you all just get it through your heads that he's not stayin' in the hospital and go with it?" The Gunny dismissed his men who all hurried away before the Gunny fond something unpleasant for them to do.

Gibbs admitted, "It is an idea. I had intended to take him home with me the second the doctor said he could go. I don't get why he can't stay that long."

The Gunny looked Gibbs up then down. "Yeah, like you'd stay."

"True." Gibbs gave up, deciding then and there that he'd make some sort of arrangement for the future.

The Gunny smiled at Gibbs' back. The man had a reputation around Quantico; it was very good, now he saw why. The concern Gibbs showed for his SFA was more like that of a father for a son than a boss for a subordinate. He liked it. And respected Gibbs more than ever. He returned to his business, satisfied that he'd offered all the help he could.

.

Tony was still sleeping, something Jimmy intended to encourage, when Gibbs tapped lightly on the door.

Jimmy didn't bother to look through the peephole, he was sure it was either Gibbs or one of Tony's teammates. He opened the door, blocking it with his foot; when he saw Gibbs he opened it the rest of the way.

"Agent Gibbs."

"Jethro. Told you." Gibbs eased in the door, making an effort to be quiet. When Leroy Jethro Gibbs wanted to walk quietly, he made cats seem noisy.

"He's asleep. Something I'd like for him to stay." Jimmy blinked at that rather awkward sentence.

Gibbs, on the other hand, smiled slightly. "Okay. How is he?"

"Good. He'll be better when he gets some real sleep. He doesn't sleep well in a hospital, he just dozes. And that's mostly because the meds make him drowsy. But that's not real sleep. When he wakes up, I'm going to try to get him to eat something."

Gibbs nodded. "Good luck. When he's sick, you can't get him to eat."

Jimmy shook his head. "That's not true. It's when he's in the hospital that you can't get him to eat. I won't eat that shit either. Um ... pardon my French."

Gibbs chuckled. "Pardoned. So ... what would he like to eat?"

A voice from the hallway made Jimmy flinch. "Grilled cheese and bacon sandwich, tomato soup, and double fudge chocolate pudding. Thanks." Tony ambled in, arm in a sling and settled on the couch.

Gibbs got up from the chair he'd perched on and covered him with an afghan. "Don't get a chill."

"Thanks, Boss. Sorry if I worried you, but I'm done with the hospital. Not goin' back." His determined expression told its own tale.

"Ok. But someone has to be here with you. Jimmy can't stay forever— he's got a shift at NCIS and one at the ER."

Jimmy finished, "Yes, I do. And the ER rotation is really important to me. So ... I'll see who can come..." he glowered at Tony, an expression that looked a bit strange on his usually genial features, "outside your SEAL team."

Tony's hurt expression made him squirm. "What's wrong with my guys?"

Jimmy firmed his expression into what he privately called his doctor face. "You out-rank them all. They'll let you do stupid stuff. I want you better ... not back in the hospital with something else wrong with you."

Tony actually looked impressed. "Very good. Great doctor face." Jimmy blushed. "But the guys will follow orders only up to a point. I'm not fit for duty right now, so ... well, they're more likely to obey you or Gibbs than me. Not Probie, unfortunately, but ..." he shrugged, wincing as his collarbone protested.

Gibbs eyed him for a moment then asked Jimmy, "That sling right? Shouldn't his arm be higher?"

Jimmy eyed the sling for a moment then agreed with Gibbs. "No, it's not. Yes, it should." He proceeded to move the sling so that Tony's arm rested on the opposite shoulder. "There." he patted Tony on his good shoulder and announced. "I've got to go. Leave that sling the way it is. It'll take the stress off that bone."

Gibbs watched as Jimmy excused himself to head to the hospital for his next rotation. As soon as Jimmy was out of the apartment, Tony's team showed up, along with Tim.

Tim settled in the other chair to wait until the flutter was over. He wasn't about to accuse the guys of fluttering but there was definitely some sort of fussing going on.

Cosmo and Dean immediately headed for the kitchen while Remy just eased Tony forward and wedged himself behind him on the couch. Tony sighed and leaned back against his broad chest. He eyed Tim for a moment then said, "Not don't-ask-don't-telling. Just ... more comfortable this way."

Tim eyed him back then announced. "I never thought you were. But I don't care if you are or not. As long as you don't make a pass at me, I don't care who you screw. You're battle buddies, right?" Tony nodded while Remy just looked amused. "And Spartans." Another nod. "So, not my business in a great big way."

Gibbs looked at Tim for a moment then said, "I'll sponsor you, if you like."

Tim shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm not up for that sort of deal. Never was interested in sub rosa stuff."

"Okay, just thought I'd offer."

"I appreciate it. Thanks again."

Tim flinched, patted his pocked then extracted his phone. "Hello?"

Gibbs nearly didn't need Tim to put his phone on speaker, Abby was practically yelling.

"Tim!Tim!Tim! Timmy! Ohmygodohmygod. I just found out, they've taken Ziva to a loony bin. You have to do something. She's not nuts. She's just ... mixed up. She got ... I mean."

Dean and Cosmo wandered in from wherever they'd been.

Gibbs cut her off in mid-rant. "Abby, take a breath." they could clearly hear Abby inhale then exhale. "Good. Now, listen carefully. You know she was doing things she shouldn't do on her computer. She ran a bunch of searches on top-secret ops. I'm not sure exactly what she was looking for, or where she sent the results. I know she's not nuts, but she's got a raging case of PTSD. Vance is doing his best to keep her out of trouble. But in order to do that, Max has to write her off as 'reduced mental capacity'." He rubbed his face tiredly. "We've already been through all this once or twice, Abby. You know how much I hate repeating myself. As far as I'm concerned, it's all over with. Legal will do their schtick, Human Resources will do theirs. All we can do is stay out of their way. PTSD is nothing to fool around with. Abby, we don't know how unstable she is just now, so you stay away from her. Call her, email her, whatever. But you have to wait until the psych guys say it's okay. Got me?"

Abby admitted that she did. "But, why can't I see her, or call her or anything until a bunch of strangers say it's okay? It's like we've abandoned her, or something."

Tim cut her off before she got up a good head of steam; they'd all learned that it was better to head Abby off before she got on a roll. "Because no one knows what triggered this. Until we're sure that it wasn't one of us, we stay away. If I were you, in fact, I am ..." He sighed. "Sorry, getting side tracked here. Write a journal, doesn't matter what you put in it, and keep it for her. I'm going to start one tonight. Now, calm down, go home. Boss?"

Gibbs nodded to Tim. "What he said. Abs? Don't feel bad. As soon as the psych guys say it's okay, we'll all go to see her. Maybe not all at once, bit of an overload. But we won't forget her. Now, do what Tim said and go home. Tony's here, but don't come by. He's going back to sleep soon. And I don't want him trying to run an unneeded rescue. Go." He hung up and handed the phone back to Tim.

Remy, Dean and Cosmo were looking a bit shell-shocked.

"Man, that was something. She do that often?" Dean sounded like he wasn't sure whether to be shocked or awed.

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, she does. She's always wired. She actually had to take a weekly drug test for Shepherd." Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Only found out about it when Vance took over. She's just naturally that way. Love her to bits but she's exhausting on a good day."

They settled in to make sure Tony rested. This meant that Remy stayed where he was, holding Tony against his chest. Tony shut his eyes and actually went to sleep.

Dean and Cosmo wandered the apartment, cleaning as they went. There wasn't much to do, just a bit in the kitchen and bathroom; but, when they were done, the apartment was the cleanest Gibbs had ever seen it.

Tim spent his time messing with Tony's computer, mumbling about how Ziva had invaded something or invalidated a whatsit. Gibbs knew he was computer illiterate and it was getting old.

Remy finally woke Tony. "AJ, my legs are numb, get up."

Tony mumbled, "Okay, up, man, whiny." He pulled himself off Remy and onto the other end of the couch where he immediately fell back to sleep.

Remy didn't say anything; he just started trying to rub some feeling back into his legs. Gibbs sat on the coffee table to help. "That's good of you, holding him like that."

Remy shrugged. "He's done the same for me. Sometimes it really is just the little things that count. He carried me on his back for miles through the desert, didn't find out he'd been shot too until he just fell over walking to transport."

Gibbs winced. Remiel Devereaux was not a small man by any means. In fact, he out-weighed Tony by 30 pounds or more and was several inches taller. "Stubborn."

"That, he is." Remy eyed Tony for a moment then pulled the afghan over his feet. "I'm better. Thanks. I'll get up and walk around a bit." Remy stood, offered Gibbs his hand and pulled him to his feet.

Cosmo wandered in, announced, "Food in the kitchen. Stew," then left on some personal errand.

Dean stayed to serve up, telling Gibbs, "I have to stay or LeBeau will eat everything in sight."

Remy admitted, "I will."

Dean served stew and rolls to everyone and they sat down around the table to eat. Tony was still asleep on the couch so Tim asked, "Should we wake him? Or let him sleep?"

Dean eyed Tony for a moment then decided, "AJ needs the sleep more than the food. I'll save him some in the fridge." He poked Remy in the arm with a finger. "You, don't eat it. Got me?"

"Ow! Got you, asshole."

"Am not."

"Are too."

Gibbs stopped that in its tracks. "I'll put you in separate corners, SEAL or no. Settle down and eat."

"Sir! Yes, sir, Gunny sir."

Gibbs gave both of them an evil eye but let calling him sir slide. "Idiots."

Remy agreed, "Yes, we are."

Tim sighed. "I don't get it. Seems like, if I said half the things you do, I'd get killed."

Remy thought about that through a couple of bites of stew. "You would. But, when you've killed together, nearly died together, not to mention a couple of prison camps and BUD/s ...well, it's different."

Dean agreed adding, "That doesn't take into account puking up your guts all over each other and bleeding on each other."

Gibbs added, "And bandaging each other up. Holding each other when things got really bad. Yah, it's different."

Tim nodded. "I see. Sort of a ... a warriors-only thing."

All three men nodded at that, Gibbs allowed, "That's it."

They went back to eating.

Tim announced, "Dibs on the last roll."

Dean snorted. "Not. Mine."

Gibbs settled that argument by taking it himself. He took a huge bite out of it and mumbled around it, "Possession is nine-tenths the law. Deal."

Tim grumbled, "Pig."

"Patience, Integrity, Guts. Yup." Gibbs smirked at the table.

Tim couldn't have helped himself if he'd tried. "You, Boss? Patience? In what alternate universe?"

Remy allowed, "The one in which he's a retired Marine Scout Sniper." He smacked Tim gently on the back of the head. "Bitch."

Tim grinned into his bowl.

.

Tony finally woke halfway. He sat up, sniffed himself, mumbled, "Man, I stink like hospital," and got up. He wandered into the bathroom.

Tim looked up from his latest attempt to clean Tony's computer of various viruses, Trojans and other malware. It was slow going, mostly because Ziva's machinations had left holes in every protection Tony had.

Remy cleared his throat, attracting attention from both Tim and Gibbs. He shook his head and said, "Just let him be. He won't have a really clear head until he showers and eats."

Tony turned on the shower then went to find something clean to wear. He was torn; on one hand, boxers and t-shirt sounded great. On the other, light weight PT gear was warmer. He decided on PT pants and a t-shirt. He could always add another shirt if he needed it.

Decision made, he gathered up his clean things and went to take his shower. He was pleased to find a pile of clean towels, still warm from the dryer, on the sink surround. And the water had been adjusted to his preferred temperature. He stepped in and let the hot water began to soothe his aches and pains.

After standing for a bit, he got his shampoo and started to wash his hair. Letting the water run over him hadn't hurt, but the second he raised his arms to put on the shampoo, his rib and shoulder protested. "Fuck."

Gibbs had been waiting for this. "Need a hand?"

Tony, well aware that his scars looked much worse after heat hit them, replied, 'Not pretty, Boss."

Gibbs snarked, "Not plannin' on askin' for a date. Need help, or no?"

"I could use a hand. If I raise my hands over my head, things hurt." Tony wondered about the logistics of this.

Gibbs satisfied that by stepping into the shower cubicle in swimming trunks, Tony's old ones. He had a cheap plastic stool in one hand. "Sit." Tony sat, putting his head at Gibbs' waist. Gibbs added shampoo to the already wet locks and efficiently washed Tony's hair.

"I figured you'd use some expensive crap."

"No, I like Suave. Cheap, works, and the perfume fades in about twenty minutes. I don't like a lot of fancy junk. I use expensive cologne because I like it. And I only have three different kinds. I use unscented soaps so they don't mix." Tony relaxed under Gibbs' hands.

Gibbs finished quickly then asked, "Need any more help?"

Tony sighed and stood up. "No. Thanks." he turned his back to Gibbs and started washing his chest, dismissing Gibbs without offending.

Gibbs looked at Tony for a moment then muttered, "I just wish you'd left some for me."

Tony, knowing quite well what Gibbs was referring to, grumbled, "Nope, sorry. All gone boom."

"Good. There's food in the kitchen." Gibbs dried himself off with one of the towels, leaving three for Tony.

"And where else, I ask, would you put food?" Tony's light tone made Gibbs snicker.

"On the balcony, or whatever you call that thing with the bar-b-que on it." Gibbs left Tony to his ablutions and headed for the kitchen to make sure the stew was warm.

Ten minutes later, Tony emerged from the bathroom dressed in the PT pants and a long sleeved t-shirt. He had the afghan wrapped around his shoulders like some sort of odd cape. His hair stuck out in every direction and was still oozing water down his neck.

Tim looked at him for a moment then laughed, "Your hair looks like a porku-swine. Want me to dry it for you?"

Tony laughed too then replied, "Wouldn't want to strain your manhood or anything."

Tim ventured, "Well, fuck you. Yes or no."

"Yes, please." Tony eased down on the pulled-out chair. "Food?"

Remy plonked a bowl down in front of Tony while Cosmo snatched the rolls out of the oven, deftly juggling them to keep from burning his fingers.

Tim returned with a towel and scrubbed Tony's head as dry as he could get it. "I'm not blow-drying you, so that's as good as it gets."

Tony mumbled, "Thanks," around a mouthful of stew and rolls.

"Welcome." Tim eyed the bowl then shrugged. It didn't look like there was enough food in it for a ten-year-old, much less Tony.

Dean, seeing the look, said, "There's more on the stove. AJ, you think you'll want more? If you do, I'll have to wrestle Remy for it."

Remy looked up from where he was eating the rest of the stew out of the pot. "AJ wants more? Damn it, why didn't you tell me?" He looked into the pot and saw, with relief, that there were still at least two servings left.

Gibbs swatted him on the head. "Wait until Tony's done, then you can have the leftovers." he gave Remy a critical look. "You been tested for worms lately?"

"Yeah. Just still a growing boy." Remy chucked the spoon into the sink and put the lid on the pot.

Dean, as ranking officer, handed out orders. "Remy, stay here to help Gibbs. McGee, if you're not done with AJ's computer, stay; otherwise, head for home and get some rest. Cosmo, we need to get back to Gibbs' place and start looking for somewhere to live."

Gibbs made a life-changing decision in a split second. "Stay. Pay rent and utilities. Don't tear anything up. We'll set up a chore board."

Dean looked at Cosmo, some sort of communication passed between them, then Dean said, "We'll set up a budget, chore list and whatnot. Thanks."

Tony mumbled, "Boss, you will not regret that. I promise." He gave both of his teammates a look that promised days on the mats if they let either him or Gibbs down.

Both Dean and Cosmo nodded easily. "We're actually fairly good roommates. Keep up on the chores and don't really make a lot of mess." Gibbs gave them both a skeptical look. "Seriously. The reason we have problems is, we get deployed, have to give up our place. Then we come back and either can't find a place together, or it's too expensive. Roommates fuck up and move someone into our space while we're gone. Shit like that."

Gibbs nodded his understanding. "There'll be some house rules." He smiled slightly. "For me as well as you two. We'll work it out."

Tony concentrated on his stew and rolls, batting at Tim's hand as he reached for a roll, just to tease Tony.

"NO!"

Tim pouted mightily, which was something, considering the shape of his already pouty lower lip.

Remy eyed him for a moment then said, "Suck that lip back in, sailor, or I'll ride to town on it."

Dean and Cosmo left, snickering. Dean called over his shoulder, "We'll pick up some groceries on the way. Want anything special?"

Gibbs hollered back, "No, but make up a standard list. Check-off thing."

"Okay. Gone." The slam of the front door put an end to the conversation.


	6. Chapter 6

Standard disclaimers all apply

Betaed by Jake and Jordre

chapter 6

Abby collected all her data, then, in a fit of pique, sent it to Director Vance. She knew he really didn't need the additional information, but she was mad at Ziva. She knew it was petty and a bit mean but Ziva had started out petty and aloof, moved on to almost friendly with an edge of sly maliciousness, then to trying. Now she had slipped back into that Mossad façade again.

Abby knew about PTSD, they'd dealt with its consequences often enough. But she did feel that Ziva, of all people, should have known that they'd help her, if she asked; this prying into Tony's private life was unacceptable. So she sent the last of her information to the Director, just as he'd demanded. Gibbs might have a fit, but she was protecting the rest of her small family the best way she knew how.

After shutting down her computers and babies, Abby gathered up her things and made for the door. She was going to check on Tony, cook up a storm then go home to — frankly, pout.

A raid on the grocery store then a quick shower, hair wash, clothing change and she was back on the road.

She arrived at Tony's apartment at about 6pm and kicked the door for entry; she couldn't knock as her hands were full of bags.

She smiled at Remy Devereaux when he opened the door. "Here. Take this before I drop it."

Remy grabbed the bag. "Got it. What all's in here?"

Abby gave Remy one of her brilliant smiles. "A bit of this and that. Jambalaya, gumbo, dirty rice. Corn bread, ham and beans." Remy trailed Abby into the kitchen. "Chicken andouille sausage. Okra." As she named off the ingredients, she set them out on the counter.

Abby got a good look at Remy's face and explained. "I always do this when Tony's sick. I make the smallest batch I know how, and freeze half. The other half, I portion out on plates. He just sticks it in the oven to warm. Et voila, dinner."

Remy blinked at her. Then smacked himself in the forehead. "Sciuto! Jefferson Parish? Yes?"

Abby nodded. "I am. And you?"

"Remiel Devereaux, southern Terrebonne Parish." Remy took Abby's hand a kissed it. "So now. Gumbo?"

"Yes. How are you at making roux?" Abby hated making roux as her impatient nature led to her either scorching it or under cooking it.

"Maman had me make it for her." Remy was proud of his heritage, just as proud as Tony was of his.

"Good. Can you make a double batch while I start chopping things?"

"Guilty, oui?" Remy wasn't going to let Abby have another guilt fit.

"A bit. But Tony forgave me and that's all that counts. I just always cook for anyone on the team who's sick. Do you think I should make a lasagna?" Abby considered that for a moment then sighed. "Never mind. I could, but I didn't get any pasta."

"I can make some, easy." Tony's voice from the door made both of them jump.

Remy exclaimed, "Damn it, AJ, I'm a gonna put a bell around your neck, I swear."

Abby rushed over to Tony, exclaimed, "Hug time," then waited for Tony to say she could.

Tony smiled and held his arms wide, only cautioning, "I'm still sore, Abs."

Abby eased up to him and wrapped her arms around Tony's torso. She hugged him gently, resting her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Tony." Tony put a finger to her lips. "Not gonna apologize again. Promise."

"Ok. What are you making me?" Tony put his good arm over her shoulder.

"Lots of good things. And where, may I enquire, is your sling?"

Gibbs came out of the spare bedroom with it in his hand. "Right here. He took it off to sleep. DiNozzo."

Tony obediently stood still while Gibbs put the sling back on. While Gibbs was doing that, he looked around. "Where's Tim?"

Remy nodded his head in the general direction of Tony's PC. "Went to get parts. He says that your hardware is outdated and your software's a joke. Thought you upgraded."

Abby snorted. "That was, like, a year ago. In our line of work that's practically ancient."

Tony looked blank for a moment. "That long ago? Shit." He readjusted the sling, Gibbs adjusted it right back. "I'm hungry now. Abby?"

Abby handed Remy a frying pan and the eggs. "Here. Slice off some of the sausage, there's plenty of onions and some ham scraps."

Remy took the frying pan and started an omelet. "Where's the cheese?"

Tony nodded to the fridge. "Unless one of you bottomless pits ate it, there's some shredded cheddar in the crisper."

Remy found it, examined the package and grimaced. "Good thing I'm usin' it. It's about to go over the fence."

The door slammed just then, causing Gibbs to grope for a weapon he didn't have and Remy and Tony to produce knives from ... somewhere. Big knives.

Tim looked from Remy to Tony to Gibbs. He shrugged and ambled over to the computer saying, "Sorry, hands full." He caught sight of Abby, behind Remy and nodded. "Abby. Cooking up a storm?"

"You betcha. Gumbo over rice for supper. If Tony doesn't stuff himself with omelet." She returned to her chopping and fixing. Remy threw out his roux and started again grumbling about how quickly it had scorched.

Tony just grumbled, "But I'm hungry now and nothing will be done before 9 at the earliest. Tell me you're not going to let that gumbo simmer at least two hours."

Abby just looked wise which quickly devolved into a smirk. "You know me oh-so-well."

Tony sighed and settled at the table, coughing thickly. "Ugh. I need another breathing treatment but I'm all out of the medicine. That release intern was a dumb ass, had to be an ASVAB waiver; all I had to do was loom and he caved. He just dumped a bunch of junk in a bag, shoved it in my general direction and took off at a dead run. So ... I'm out of candy and breathing medication. The pain pills he did give me are worthless to me. I'll be loopy as a monkey in seconds."

Gibbs stood up. "You got that scrip?" He reached for a jacket to conceal his holster.

Tony got up too, only he went to rummage in a small ditty bag. "Here. Scrip for ... do these people speak English?" he squinted for a moment trying to decipher the random scrawl of the intern. "Have no idea."

Gibbs took the whole pile. "I'll just hand them all to the pharmacist and let him sort it out."

Tony thought for a moment then said, "Go to Walter Reed. The pharmacist there's a good guy — he'll fill it with a minimum of fuss. You'll need my ID card and they'll probably call me."

"DiNozzo. Gimme." Gibbs held out his hand for the card. Tony just handed it over and went to lay down on the couch. Gibbs left, yelling, "Lock the damn door," over his shoulder.

Remy blinked for a moment. "What? He thinks someone's going to invade and mug us?"

Tim grumbled. "Yeah, right. Abby'll kill 'em and leave no forensic evidence behind."

"And don't you forget it!" Abby yelled from the kitchen. "And someone come stir this while I do something else."

Gibbs called Dean, for an update on the house and to tell him that he'd be home in about an hour.

Dean replied, "Ok, good. We got a list going. Or two. One for groceries and the other for chores. Man, I am not touching that basement. There's too many tools I don't know anything about. But we divvied the rest of the house into chore assessments and assigned a number."

Gibbs interrupted, "I'm at the pharmacy. Explain in detail later," and hung up.

Dean took his phone away from his ear, looked at it for a moment then complained, "Dude, you do not know how to say good-bye?"

Cosmo snorted. "Been told that." He went back to his chore board.

Gibbs handed the scripts and Tony's ID to the pharmacist's mate and told him, "Need grunt candy instead of the pain-killer, and that breathing med, can I get a double on it?"

Gibbs realized how wide spread the rumors of DiNozzo's reaction to pain meds and sedatives was when the pharmacist said, "Oh, no, do not give the Lt. Cmdr. this ... or this. I'll call ... um ... Pitt and get a redo on this, won't take a moment. While I'm getting that permission I'll mix the breathing med that he usually gets. This generic stuff, well, let's just say that Dr Pitt will not be best pleased." The woman turned to dial her phone and put it on speaker. She then got several bottles from the shelves and started measuring out the mixture.

Gibbs eyed the bottles then asked, "Can I get any of that over the counter?"

"Oh, yes. You can actually get it all. It's just that most people, the commander included, don't measure carefully enough. Too much of any one ingredient, in relation to all the others and it's ... just a hot mess." She scribbled on a pad for a moment then said, "Here. You can get it made up at any holistic medical center. Cheaper, fresher ingredients and so on. Do not tell anyone I did that or I'll get a write-up."

Gibbs plucked the paper off the counter, palming it expertly. "Did what?"

"Nothing." the phone beeped to signal that the connection was made. The pharmacist explained what was needed and Dr Pitt agreed, telling her that he would fax down the order. She started counting pills as she waited for the fax.

When it came, she pulled it from the printer, stuck it in a file and handed Gibbs the pills and bottle of liquid. "Now, do not overdose on this." She pointed to the bottle. "Just what squeezes into the cup on top of the bottle. Once every four hours until the congestion clears. Any questions?"

Gibbs thought for a moment then shook his head. "No. Thank you." he stuffed everything into a coat pocket and left.

.

Remy watched as Tony paced the apartment restlessly. He couldn't, wouldn't, settle; not until he felt safe. Being one-armed was making him nuts. He'd tried to leave off the sling but the pain made it too hard. And Tony was well aware that pain made it hard to rest and heal. But he wasn't resting anyway.

"AJ! Settle, will you?"

Tim looked up from where he'd gutted Tony's computer, then went back to his fiddling when he realized that Remy was gently tugging Tony to the kitchen.

"Miss Abby, will you please keep this ol' coon hound in here for awhile. Feed him something, or something."

Abby took Tony's hand and pulled him over to the table. "Tony, you're just wearing yourself out for no reason. I'll protect you." She gave him her most beguiling smile.

"No, Abs, it won't work. I can't sleep on Remy forever. And I don't have anything at my back. I know it's stupid but ... and sleeping in my bed ... not on. It's not really that comfortable when I hurt like this." Tony got up to pace again. "Sorry. I know I'm being unreasonable, but."

Abby patted him on the shoulder. "No, you're not. You need to feel safe to sleep. You need to sleep to heal. Take a pill?" She made it a question.

"No. Sleeping pills ... I can't." Tony's face tightened.

Remy's voice from the door explained, "Most of us don't take them. Can't wake up from a nightmare. I'd rather not sleep at all." He ambled into the kitchen, took Tony by his good arm and tugged. "Come on. Nest up and rest."

Tony scowled for a moment then allowed, "Probably should, but ..."

Abby's eyes flicked from one man to the other. "Nest up?"

Tony rubbed his face with his good hand. "Yeah. Habit I got in the Box. Can't rest without something at my back. And, no matter how hot it gets, need a blanket. And some pillows. Just feel stupid, ya know?"

Abby stomped one platform booted foot. "If it helps you to rest, I wouldn't think it stupid if you hung from the ceiling like a bat. Shoo." She flapped her hands at Remy and Tony like they were chickens on the porch.

Tony allowed Remy to lead him into the living room where they proceeded to push the two recliners against the front of the couch. Remy disappeared into the back of the apartment and returned with every pillow he could find, a sheet and a blanket.

Tim McGee watched in fascination as the two SEALs put the blanket then the sheet on the couch, dumped all the pillows on next then Remy held the sheet and blanket up while Tony scrambled into the nest and piled the pillows to his satisfaction. Then Remy let the 'tent' drop over Tony's head leaving nothing visible but the top of it. He patted an unidentified bump and murmured, "There, go the fuck to sleep."

Tim looked at Remy, wide eyed and confused. Remy just winked at him and wandered into the kitchen to help Abby.

Tony was snoring in seconds.

.

Gibbs returned a bit later than he'd wanted, traffic had been a bitch and an accident had trapped him for over fifteen minutes. He had not been pleased. He wanted to get the medicine back to Tony, then go home. He was sure he could leave Tony in the capable hands of Remy, Tim and Abby overnight.

He was feeling every one of his 50+ years today. His knees were killing him and his head pounded from stress, too much coffee and not enough sleep. He knew he could keep up, but, like Tony, he paid a higher price.

When he parked, he took a moment to look around the apartment complex. He wasn't sure he liked what he saw. The parking lot had holes in it that looked like they'd been there awhile. The landscaping was tired; bushes needed pruning, annuals needed replacing and the lawn was in dire need of a good soak. The buildings also looked tired; soffits needed fixing and framing needed paint. He shrugged it off and went inside.

He went inside and froze right in the door for a split second, then he started to grin. All he could see of Tony was the top of his head, hair sticking out in every direction.

"What the hell?" But he knew; he nested up under his boat. He went over and patted a bump which turned out to be a foot. "DiNozzo. I got your meds. Up and take a treatment."

Tony mumbled something incomprehensible and rolled over.

Tim came out of the hall and exclaimed, "Oh, no, Boss! I mean, he just got to sleep. Sorry."

Gibbs nodded. "I can see that. And he's not waking up any time soon or I miss my guess." He pulled things out of pockets and put them on the kitchen table. "So ..." he held up a bottle. "Breathing treatment. Every four hours." He also put another medication bottle on the table, it rattled so Tim didn't really need to be told, "Vitamin M. See that he takes it as needed."

"Okay." Tim picked up each bottle and examined it, making sure he knew what was what. "And ... sleeping pills? Not givin' him that."

"No." Gibbs agreed. "I really wouldn't but the Pharm. mate insisted. Make the doctors happy, an' all."

He smiled as Abby plopped a plate on the table. "Eat that. It's late and I know you haven't eaten yet."

Gibbs nodded but refused. "I'd love to, Abs, but the guys have something, or I miss my guess. I'll leave that for Tim. I'm outta here."

Abby didn't even pout, she just grabbed her stuff and announced, "So am I. You can walk me to my ride."

Abby and Gibbs left, leaving Remy and Tim to keep an eye on Tony.

Gibbs touched Abby's arm. "I don't want you walking around here after dark. Make someone walk you down. Got me?"

Abby looked around. "I do. I didn't realize that this complex was ... going downhill so bad. Tony isn't that fond of the place but it was the best he could find on short notice."

"Why the hell did he settle?" Gibbs did some mental backtracking and realized that the reason Tony was living here was because he'd only had three days to find something after his last rotation. "Well, damn."

"Yeah. It's not bad but it's not good either. He's probably paying twice what the place is really worth." Abby scowled at a clump of over-the-hill annuals.

Gibbs helped her into her car, saying, "It's really not our business. He's a big boy, leave it alone."

Abby sighed. "OK, but ... if he asks for help, all bets are off."

"Ok, Abs. Go home, get some rest. Early morning." He closed the door for Abby.

Abby nodded, started her car and eased out of the parking place. She yelled back as she drove by, "You too, Bossman. Sleep. Leave that boat alone for once."

He just gave her a Boy Scout salute and got into his car.

He made it home just in time for Dean to put food on the table; he was so tired that he didn't even notice what it was. It took him two bites to realize that someone had committed the sacrilege of putting guacamole on his chili. He didn't say anything, just gave Cosmo a dirty look and scooped it off. He didn't mind the cheese or chopped onions but fruit on chili? No.

Cosmo, ready for bed himself, just grumbled, "Man, did you just side-oogle me?" and scooped the guacamole out of his chili and added it to the pile Gibbs had made.

Dean was already getting ready for bed so he didn't notice, and wouldn't have cared if he had. He made food his way — if you didn't like it, you could either pick off what you didn't like or eat peanut butter, he didn't care which.

Cosmo announced: "You put that green stuff on my chili again. Wish you wouldn't. Bossman didn't like it either."

"Tough. Where is he?" Dean didn't want to have a house meeting this late, especially when they were all tired, but he wanted to make sure that they weren't stepping on toes either.

"Ate. Went down to the basement. Leave it until tomorrow." Cosmo punched his pillow into shape, indicating that the conversation was over.

Dean just shrugged and went to bed too.

Gibbs eyed his boat; he really didn't feel like working on it. He was tired but he knew he wasn't going to sleep in his bed. He could feel the nightmares hovering. He pulled a duffel out from under his work bench and opened it. He got out a couple of blankets, a sheet, a pillow and his KABAR knife.

He crawled under the boat and, as Abby had called it, nested up for the night.

.

Cosmo greeted Gibbs with a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich. "You get any sleep?"

Gibbs nodded. "I did. Actually slept good." He took a bite of the sandwich and washed it down with more coffee.

Cosmo said, "Came down to wake you. Decided I didn't want to get messed up by a Scout Sniper, of all things."

Gibbs grumbled, "Might mess with your SEALness, no doubt."

"Exactly."

Dean offered, "You talking to anyone?"

"No. Max ... he's ... he actually does mean well but he's POG. Just really doesn't get it." Gibbs handed his cup to Cosmo who refilled it.

Dean shrugged. "We got a guy. Worth the trouble."

"Really?" Gibbs considered that for a moment.

"Yeah, he's as crazy as we are."

Cosmo nodded. "Is. Four tours." he held up four fingers, a rather awed expression on his face. "Four, man. Seriously."

Gibbs thought about that for a second. "So ... I'll think about it."

Dean nodded, "Good enough."

Cosmo changed the subject with all the subtly of a sledge hammer. "Changing the subject now. We're going to check on AJ. You?"

"Off until Monday. I'll check in on him, call Vance for an update and to give him one. We need to have a house meeting."

"No time like the present." Dean settled at the table.

Cosmo joined them with some papers he gathered up off the counter. It didn't take them long to reach a tentative agreement on the chore cycle and house responsibilities. Tentative, because things like that need to be fluid or they fail. Gibbs agreed that they might actually make it work.

He'd actually not minded answering most of their questions as they'd just matter-of-factly told him they didn't want to step on any land mines and the only way to avoid that was to know where they were. The fact that they had the master bedroom bothered both of them until Gibbs admitted that he hadn't slept in there since Shannon had been killed, a thing that had annoyed all three of his ex-wives to no end.

Dean had blinked once, very slowly, sort of like a lizard, then allowed, "Maybe we should just stay here forever. Avoid all that remarrying crap."

Gibbs shrugged, finished his coffee and said, "Not gonna happen. I'm stubborn but three times' a charm. Live here as long as we get along." He got up and headed for the third bedroom, the one he'd converted into a small office. "Oh, and the office is mine. But you can use it as long as you don't mess up my paperwork."

Dean ignored this with all the dignity it deserved, in other words, he gave Gibbs a raspberry. Cosmo bopped him on the shoulder and ordered, "Dishes. I'm starting laundry. Again."

Dean grumbled, "And where, I'd like to know, do all those dirty clothes come from?"

Cosmo snorted. "Us. Sheets, towels, clothes. You know damn good and well that neither one of us visited the laundromat for ... like, two weeks. Still catchin' up."

Dean agreed, "Yeah, I guess you're right. But ... in and out and in again, when the hell do we have time?"

"Agreed. But we still need clean A-TACS. So, someone has to do wash." Cosmo left, leaving Dean to deal with dishes.

Gibbs, meanwhile, was finding out that all was not really well at Tony's. He'd called, just to check up and gotten Tim.

"Well, Boss, we were up and down with him all night. He had nightmares that had him up and screaming. He's sleeping now, on Remy. They're both covered up in that nest. It's hot in here; I'm sweating like a bull. Remy says it's ok, but he's sweating too."

Gibbs thought that over for a moment then allowed, "Don't try to uncover Tony, just make sure that both of them take a cool shower and drink plenty of liquids when they get up. If you're tired, I'll send one of the boys over."

Tim thought that over for a minute then replied, "I'm not really tired, I got enough sleep. I'll hang around. Heard anything about Ziva yet?"

"No. I'm gonna call Vance as soon as I hang up on you." And with that comment, he hung up.

.

Leon Vance was also tired. He'd been up late, trying to see a way out of this mess that didn't include arresting someone. Jackie had also been up late. Vance talked many personnel issues over with Jackie. She was wise and kind and very good at such things. He knew he was sometimes a bit too 'by the book'; Jackie helped him to keep from making a fool of himself, too much. She'd advised him to let Legal and Human Relations take care of it. If he just followed their lead, he could avoid most of the issues he worried about. The only problem was, he wasn't sure it was best for Ziva or NCIS.

The ringing of his phone put those ruminations on the back burner. "Vance."

"Leon. What's going on with Ziva? Sitrep." Gibbs was aware that everyone thought he was abrupt. Tony said he was pre-verbal, or a functional mute. He just didn't see any sense in confusing things with too many words.

"Gibbs. We, and I do mean we, have several problems. Some of which can be covered with the reduced capacity plea. But, her dual citizenship is causing problems. I'm afraid Homeland wants her deported. We've managed to dodge that bullet, but, in return for allowing her to stay in the country, she has to submit to an evaluation by a psychologist of their choosing. I'm trying to force Max on them, with some success. They want an outside opinion but they're willing to allow us to pick. I think Tom Morrow is just going through the motions so as to say they did their thing."

"What else?" Gibbs had a feeling that he wasn't going to like the rest of the problems.

"She's got to spend at least 60 days in a mental facility. She's at Washington DC Veteran's Mental Care Facility." Gibbs made an uncomfortable noise and Vance overrode him. "She went willingly. They're good people. The only problem is ... she's sequestered for ten days. They explained everything to me and I agree. Something triggered her behavior, and they need to isolate the cause. That means, no contact between her and a possible trigger. They'll keep me posted and I'll pass it on to you. When visitation is possible, they want to keep it to one person at a time. That'll help figure out where this all came from."

"Ok, Leon. I actually do trust you with this. She's ... changed. We didn't really notice, she's too good at hiding things. I feel bad. Let me know if she needs anything. Anything at all." Gibbs started to hang up.

"Wait! Her therapist will probably want to talk to all of us. Make yourself available. I know you hate that sort of thing but it's for her. Bye." And with that Leon Vance managed to hang up on Gibbs for once.

Gibbs didn't even register that as he was thinking about Ziva and what to tell his team. He sighed. "Damn it, I hate TDA's."

He decided to get a cup of coffee while he tried to figure out what to say.

As he drank his coffee, Gibbs realized that his team were all adults, they'd handle what they needed to handle. It wasn't like they were abandoning Ziva, they just couldn't help her right now.

He made the calls he needed to make, calling Tony and Remy first to see if they wanted to have the meeting at Tony's apartment, Gibbs' house, or somewhere else.

Tony still sounded half asleep when he answered his phone, he didn't bother to listen to Gibbs after the first word, he just tossed the phone to someone, yelling, "McGee, talk to the Boss. I need coffee."

Tim answered tentatively, "Boss? Tony's just up. And cranky. I think he's hurting still but he won't take anything, not even the ... Candy?" He wasn't sure exactly what he was talking about and his tone of voice showed it.

Gibbs grumbled, "Hard-headed idiot." Then explained, "He doesn't take anything if he can do without. Ask him where he wants to meet. We need to talk about Ziva. I'm callin' everyone. I'll get back to you in a few."

Tim eyed the phone with disgust. "I wish he'd quit doing that. Tony?" Tim ambled into the kitchen to find both Tony and Remy sitting at the table, drinking coffee. "You awake? Well, anyway, Gibbs called, meeting at someone's place about Ziva. He'll call back when he decides where."

"Yeah. I'll be awake in a few." He sniffed. "And I need a shower in the worst way. Remy?"

"I'm takin' a shower now. You need to deal with whatever. I'll go with or stay here. Doesn't matter." Remy wandered out, idly scratching his chest.

Gibbs called back to tell them that Ducky had insisted on hosting the meet. He had said to tell them to each bring a hot dish. Tony eyed the phone for a moment then sighed. "Hot dish? What the hell?" He then realized that Gibbs had told him the meeting was at 5:30pm, his military mind translated that to 1730. "Ok, what to take?"

Being wise in the ways of carry-in and Gibbs, Abby called Ducky then called everyone else to tell them what to bring. Tony was to bring one of the frozen pans of lasagna that she'd made. He got up, took it out of the freezer and put it on the counter.

Remy finished his quick shower and yelled at Tony that the shower was free. Tony told Tim, "I'm gonna get a quick wash down. What did Abby tell you to bring?"

Tim smirked, "Slaw. I'll get it at a deli on my way over. How much do you think I should get?"

Remy wandered in, buttoning up his shirt. "If I'm goin', couple a quarts. If not, one. AJ?"

Tony shrugged, wincing as it jarred his still sore bones. "Don't care. It'll be all about Ziva. Nothing to do with us. Up to you. If you don't go, I'll catch a ride with Tim." He glanced at McGee. "Okay?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah. I'll be happy to drive you. How's your shoulder feel?"

"Okay, still stiff and sore, but I'll manage. My ribs still ache. And I'm still havin' trouble breathing deeply." Tony made a face. "And that reminds me. After my shower I'll have a treatment. Have something sweet for me?"

Remy got up and rummaged in the fridge. He produced a piece of pie. "Managed to save this for you."

Tim eyed the pie for a moment, wondering if he could get away with snitching it.

Remy caught the look and said, "If you steal that, I'm leavin' long enough for him to ... do whatever to you. He doesn't ask for much, just something sweet after a treatment to take the taste away. Leave it."

Tim had the good grace to blush heavily. "Okay. It's just ... well, he's always pranking me and stealing my snacks. Especially if they're sweet."

"Yeah, well. He does have a weakness for pie." Remy glanced at his watch. "You have time to go home and catch a shower and change clothes. Want?"

Tim glanced at his watch. "Yeah, I better. I probably smell like a locker room. I'm off. Tell Tony I'll be back in time to get him to Ducky's."

Tim got his things and headed out. He was tired; he'd been up and down with Tony all night. Not that he minded that much, it was just, now he was tired. He looked at his watch again, did a bit of mental calculation and decided he could get about five hours, if he went straight to bed. He'd set his watch to wake him up.

.

Tim returned to Tony's apartment in plenty of time to pick him up and get him to Ducky's house. He'd called just as he turned onto Tony's street so he parked and looked up at Tony's window. Sure enough, Tony was standing in the window, he waved, then disappeared; seconds later he reappeared in the vestibule door.

He walked across the sidewalk, put his dish in the back and settled into Tim's car. "Man, Tim, I still love this car. So cool."

Tim looked at Tony critically. "You still don't look so good, Tony. You sure you want to do this?"

Tony nodded, wincing slightly. "Yeah, Ziva's team. We need to figure out what we can do to help her. We don't want to go off half-cocked and screw things up. I'll be fine. Just ... no sudden turns or stops, okay?"

"Got it." Tim maneuvered out of the parking lot, dodging a motorcycle in the process. "Idiot. Why do they do that?"

Tony, who had watched the rider dodge a truck and wedge himself into traffic with a complete disregard to his own, or other people's, safety, snarled, "He's an idiot, like you said. There's a right way and a wrong way to ride. He's all wrong. I just hope he doesn't kill someone else in the process of committing suicide."

Tim agreed then settled in to drive to Ducky's place.

Tim parked and turned to Tony. He had to shake him gently by the shoulder to wake him. This was not such a good idea as shaking him by the shoulder caused him to wake up swinging. Tim was lucky the car was so small, Tony missed his swing as he got caught up in the seatbelt.

Tony groaned as the swing jarred his shoulder and ribs. Tim yelped and ducked.

"Well, aren't we a pair?" Tony leaned back, trying to ease the pain by hugging himself.

Tim, frankly, fluttered, "Tony! Damn, I'm sorry. You okay?" He got out and hurried around to the passenger side. "You want to get out?"

Tony showed his irritation for the first time Tim could remember. "No, I'm not okay. I hurt. Yes, I do want to get out. But it's not happening without some serious help."

Tim thought for a moment, only to have Tony demand, "Go inside and get Jimmy and Ducky. Have Abby get my dish. Go!" Tim went.

It took seconds for Ducky, Jimmy, Abby and Gibbs to come out. Abby waited while Ducky oversaw Gibbs and Jimmy helping Tony out of the low-slung Boxter and onto his feet. Abby darted in to collect the food and they all trooped into the house.

Tim felt bad and said so. "Tony, seriously, if you'd told me that riding in my car would do that to you, I'd have taken you in your car."

Tony disagreed, "Tim, if I'd known this would happen, I'd have insisted on my car. Relax. I'm fine."

Jimmy shook his head. "Not really. You're still shallow-breathing, sore and stiff. You'll be fine when I tell you you're fine."

Gibbs added, "And not until. Sit down before you fall down." He helped Tony into the comfy chair that Ducky pointed to.

Tony grumbled, "Damn it, Gremlin, when did you grow a backbone?"

"When you became my patient, as well as Ducky's. I'm a bit shy, yeah, but not when it comes to the welfare of my friends. So, stick it." Jimmy managed to look fairly fierce.

Tony chuckled then groaned. "Okay, okay. Don't make me laugh, it hurts."

Jimmy ducked his head, then gave Ducky a sideways look. They retired to the kitchen, ostensibly to get refreshments, but they had a quick consultation at the same time.

Jimmy poured coffee while saying, "I don't like the way Tony looks. He's done too much too soon. Since they plated and screwed everything, nothing's actually broken, but he's shallow-breathing and I bet he's skipped at least one treatment. Pneumonia will not do him any good."

Ducky nodded. "You are correct. But how to get him to rest? I fear our young friend will continue to push himself too hard."

Jimmy scowled at the back of Tony's head. "No idea. I might manage to sit on him, maybe. Gibbs chained him to his desk, maybe we could chain him to the bed, but ... that's a bit too kinky for me."

Ducky chuckled affectionately.

"Um ... bit too ... er ... never mind. Inappropriate." Jimmy blushed, puttered a bit then carried the coffee out to the group.

He got back to the living room just in time to hear Gibbs giving Tony grief about his sling.

"DiNozzo, where the hell is your sling? You know the doctor told you to keep it on for at least three weeks." Gibbs gave Tony his 'DI' glower.

Tony frankly whined, "Damn it, Boss, it puts my hand to sleep. And, I can't get it on by myself."

Jimmy put the tray down on the coffee table. "Here's the coffee. Tony, I'll be back in a moment, I just have to run out to my car real quick." He left before Tony could voice any of the complaints that were on the tip of his tongue.

Jimmy was quite aware of the problems Tony had with analgesics and sedatives so he didn't much mind Tony's moods. Pain made anyone a bit cranky; it made Tony whiny.

He quickly got to his car and returned with a sling. He handed it to Gibbs with the comment, "If his hand is falling asleep, he needs to lower it for five minutes each hour, wiggle his fingers and make sure that his digits are warm. Do not let him leave off the sling for more than ten minutes unless his fingers are cold, then take him ... um ... to Ducky or find me. Ok?"

Gibbs smirked at Jimmy. "Got it." he turned to Tony with the sling in hand. "Now, DiNozzo! Not later. Not whenever. Now." He dropped the sling over Tony's head and arranged it properly. He left Tony's hand a bit lower than Jimmy really liked, but he refrained from comment, satisfied that Tony was wearing a sling at all.

Tony bitched and whined, "I don't know why I have to wear a sling, I'm almost healed. I don't get it."

Tim couldn't help himself. "No, you don't want to get it. Shut up. If you stress that shoulder, you'll just hurt more. It's not time for you to do PT, yet."

Gibbs couldn't help himself, he snapped, "Suck it up, Marine!" before he even thought about it.

Tony gave him a wounded look and exclaimed, "Not a damn Jarhead. I'm a sailor, Boss."

Ducky just started laughing at them all. "Boys, boys. We need to get back on task. Now. Jethro?"

Gibbs swatted Tony on the head, more a pat than anything, and settled in a chair. "Everyone, sit down. We've got a lot of planning to do."

So they settled down to review what they knew, which wasn't much. Ziva seemed to have developed a 'late emergence' case of PTSD, possibly connected to their Homegrown Terrorist case a couple of months ago. She was now obsessed with Tony's past, his missions as a SEAL and anything else that she hadn't discovered for her first dossier on him. She was distant with everyone and secretive to an extreme that was dangerous to her and her team. She was attempting to hack into computer systems that she had no legal access to and turning on alarms left and right.

Vance had told Gibbs that Legal and Human Resources had been told to handle it but keep him in the loop so he knew what was going on. They had admitted Ziva to Veterans Hospital for final diagnosis and treatment. They had already been told the initial diagnosis, but PTSD was hard to diagnose with any certainty. And the hospital was being very cautious. But Max was positive and that was good enough for Vance. In other words, Ziva was in big trouble, mentally and legally, and Vance, as NCIS, was doing his best to get her out of it. It was also taken for granted that she was out of the field for the long haul.

Tony finished, after glancing at Gibbs, "Okay, so ... we take a wait-and-see stance. It's all we can do. We can't help her, and one of us might actually be the trigger. I think it's probably either me or Tim, but ... Somalia is the key, or I miss my guess. I'll write up a summary for her shrink, send a copy to Max and Vance and stay out of it. Tim?"

Tim wasn't happy with what he was hearing but stood tall himself, "Me too. I think you're probably right. She held it together as long as she could, until we got her out. Then she covered really well. But ... you can't cover shit forever." Realizing what he'd just said, he flushed. "Well, you can't."

Gibbs nodded. "Tim's right. We all need to wait. Not my strong point, but if that's what she needs, that's what she gets. A letter a week, or keep a journal for her for when the shrinks say she can have it. Now. Enough. We've plowed this ground over way too much."

Tony sighed and shifted uncomfortably. "Boss is right. Ducky? Jimmy? Abby?"

None of the others had anything new to say. They all agreed that keeping a journal, if they couldn't write, was a good idea.

Ducky slapped his hands down on his thighs and stood up. "Very well then. Consensus reached. Let's eat."

They trooped into the dining room and sat down around the table, Ducky at the head, as it was his house, and Abby at the foot, as she was the only 'lady'. She refused to be called a female as she felt this was next to 'bitch' in offensiveness. She was a woman or a lady, and don't you forget it.

Jimmy and Tim brought in the two hot dishes and they began to pass the food around.

Conversation was, by agreement, kept to weather, TV and other light subjects. Tony recounted the plot of his newest movie, and Tim scoffed at the computer mistakes while Abby lamented the absolute lack of proper forensic science.

But, as the meal went on, Tony got quieter and quieter, until he was totally silent.

Gibbs noticed, but left it as he thought Tony was just giving Abby and Tim a chance to shine. He found out different just before dessert was served.

Tony leaned back in his chair and groaned, "Boss, I think I need to get away from the table."

Gibbs took a good look at Tony. The dim lighting of Ducky's dining room had hidden Tony's worsening condition from the others, but one good look and they knew that he was in trouble.

"Damn it, DiNozzo. If you weren't feeling well, why didn't you say so?" Gibbs put a hand on Tony's forehead and found it damp and hot. "Fever, sweating. Shit."

Tony grimaced, tried to stifle it then coughed. When he was done he managed, "Didn't want to spoil the dinner, Boss. I'll just go home and rest. Remy'll be there. It'll be okay."

"No, it won't. Here." Jimmy produced a thermometer and handed it to Ducky. He'd discretely tucked his little black bag under his chair. He hadn't noticed anything wrong with Tony, but his gut had been prickling. He, like Gibbs, didn't ignore his gut.

He took Tony's blood pressure while Ducky got the temp, they argued briefly over who'd listen to Tony's lungs. Ducky won.

Ducky made that noise with his tongue, the one that irritated Tony so much. "Tisk, tisk. Young man. I swear ..." Ducky paused.

Tony jumped into the pause, "No, Ducky, you don't. Gibbs does." He then coughed, a harsh, wracking thing that left him breathless.

Ducky sighed. "Bronchitis. Not full-blown pneumonia, but well on its way. Gibbs ... Take him back to his apartment and get him into bed. I'll be along in a few."

Jimmy shook his head. "No, Doctor, you won't. You're not supposed to drive after dark, remember. I'll take care of it. I'll call you for a verbal, if I need to. But ... I think the best bet is to double up on the breathing treatments, get him on a second course of antibiotics and make him stay in bed." He gave Tony a hard look that sat oddly on his usually friendly face. "I mean it, Anthony Dominic DiNozzo."

Tony blinked fuzzily for a moment then turned to Tim and in a tone of horror and insult, said, "McGee, I've just been middle-named by the Gremlin. I'm in real trouble now." He leaned back in his chair, breath gone.

Gibbs just eyed him. "I'm takin' him home in my car. DiNozzo, if you're not better in three days, I'm takin' you to my house. A week and you're goin' back to the hospital. Got me?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah, Boss. Got ya."

Jimmy glanced at Ducky. "While we're driving, will you check with the hospital to see what antibiotics they had him on?" Ducky nodded. "Thank you."

Gibbs walked Tony out to his car, Tony was happy to see that Gibbs had driven his 'company' sedan, instead of the Challenger. The Dodge was a classic from the '70's. It was hot as hell and drove like a dream but the suspension was heavy duty, with sway bars. This meant it was rough as a cob, something he wasn't prepared to deal with just now.

Tony settled in for the drive, leaning back and closing his eyes. He realized that he was just going to have to stop pushing himself like he had been. He owed NCIS and SEALs everything he had to give, which meant he had to take care of himself when care was needed. He wasn't 19 anymore. Not that any of this would have been any easier to deal with, he'd just been dumber then than he was now. Hiding his hurts was a leftover from his childhood, exacerbated by his times as a POW. He just had to suck it up and deal.

"Boss, I really don't feel so good. Guess I'm gonna be out of commission longer than I'd hoped." Tony sighed and shifted uncomfortably.

"Damn it, DiNozzo, no shit. But at least you're learning to admit it."

"Like you do, Boss?" Tony could no more help that dig than he could have sprouted wings.

"Yeah, like I need to. We're not gettin' any younger and toughin' it out isn't what it's cracked up to be. If I was in the Box, that'd be different. You too. Got me?" Gibbs did his best to sound hard and stern, like a Gunny. He only managed to sound like a concerned friend.

"Got ya." Tony recognized the genuine concern and acknowledged it with a nod. "I'm good, Boss."

"If you're not, you'll regret it." Gibbs glanced at Tony.

"Yeah? How's that?"

Gibbs, in true Marine fashion, fired the final volley. "I'll tell Abby."

Tony just groaned. "Oh, man, no, Boss. That's just mean."


	7. Chapter 7

chapter 7

When they got back to Tony's place, Tim had already gotten there so he and Remy were waiting for the sedan to park. Remy opened the passenger door as soon as Gibbs set the parking brake.

"Fuckit, AJ, I swear. This time you're doing it my way, if I have to tie you to a bed." Remy was only half joking and Tony knew it. "Well, come on."

Tony eased himself out of the car and Remy helped him get steady on his feet. Gibbs came around and eased under Tony's bad shoulder.

"We'll put him straight to bed. Okay?" Gibbs glanced at Remy, noted his nod and continued. "Jimmy is going to set Tony up with another course of antibiotics and whatever else he deems necessary. Our job is to see that this idiot does what he's supposed to do." He repeated what he'd told everyone at Ducky's, concluding, "And I don't want to do that. We're always dodgin' a bullet when he's in a hospital. No one reads the charts, so they're always givin' him somethin' he shouldn't take." Gibbs grunted as Remy shifted all Tony's weight onto him to open the door.

Remy eased his mind by snarling at Tony under his breath. Gibbs could make out some swear words and a few threats. Tony didn't seem to mind or even pay much attention. He just patted Remy on the cheek, mumbled, "YES, Mom." and tumbled into his bed. He was asleep seconds later.

Remy rubbed his hand over his head. "Man, he's sick. I just wish he'd ... slow down. We've been runnin' on fumes for the last bit. That Homegrown Terrorist shit was just the beginning of a run that's had us in and out of Upcountry for the last three missions. Not to put too fine a point on it ... well, black ops are hard, no matter what. You know?"

Gibbs admitted that he did and turned to look a Tony. "He looks ... worn down. Keeping two jobs is wearin' him out. I hate to lose him."

Remy sighed, "We won't. He's fairly good at balancing things, but ... someone's attitude has been setting him on edge. He's been sleeping in cat naps for weeks. Up and pacing around over things when he should be sleeping. You and me? We have a ... calling. Keeping that dumb ass from killing himself. So. What's first?"

Gibbs started to speak but was interrupted by Jimmy. He was standing in the living room with a box in his hands. "The first thing we do is get his fever down. He's dehydrated again, or I miss my guess. And there's going to be either me or Ducky on duty, 24/7, until he's well on his way to recovery. And we need someone to be here with Ducky, to help with the heavy stuff. I can handle him on my own, I think. But I'd be glad of help too."

He walked into the bedroom and eyed Tony. "OK. AJ, you'll either do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, or you'll be in the hospital again by next week. Do you understand?"

Gibbs looked from Jimmy to Tony. He felt bad; Jimmy had delivered a great lecture, he was just sad that Tony had missed it.

Jimmy poked Tony. Tony raised his head, opened one eye and grumbled, "I was asleep, I'm gonna be asleep again in a minute. Yes, I got you. I'm done. I'm tired. I hurt. Boss is right. There's no reason for me to be up and doing, instead of down and healing." He put his head down again and started snoring.

Jimmy sighed. "Well, that went better than expected. I need to get an IV into him. Will he punch me out if I just do it?"

Remy shook his head. "No, not if you keep talking to him. Just don't poke on him a lot. That's one of the things that turned him off hospitals. They can't seem to find a vein without sticking him to death."

Jimmy mumbled something about phlebotomists and crap. "Ok, Tony, I'm going to stick you. Just once." He carefully extended Tony's arm and got the needle into it with one try. "Now, I'm setting up an IV of fluids, antibiotics and a bit of something the help that fever. Do not pull that needle out." Tony mumbled a bit incoherently and Jimmy barked, "Damn it, Tony. Listen to me and do what I say."

Tony grumbled, "Don't pull out the needle. Right. Got it in one."

Jimmy gave him a heated look but refrained from further comment. He just taped up the needle and pulled the covers up. "Ok. That's got it. I'm going to lay down on the couch. I was going to go straight home after the meeting. Worked a late shift and I'm due in in ..." He looked at his watch. "Six hours. Call me if you need me." and with that, he headed for the living room.

Remy stopped him. "Man, use the fucking rack. I'll be up until I'm sure AJ isn't going to pull out that IV. That means until his fever breaks. So, go, sleep."

Gibbs nodded. "Go. We'll keep that lunkhead from doing something stupid."

Jimmy went. He stripped off his shoes and shirt then flopped down on the bed. "Man, this bunch is going to be the death of me yet." Then he was asleep too.

Gibbs settled in the easy chair. "Wake me if you need me." He was asleep in seconds, well aware that it was early. But he was going to sleep now so he'd be awake when Remy started to nod.

Remy went to make coffee. He was going to start drooping about 0200 even with that help.

.

Gibbs woke when his name was called. Jimmy was standing in the hall calling him. "Gibbs, we have to wash Tony down with this." He waved a bottled of alcohol at him. "His fever isn't breaking. If we can't get it down by noon, he'll have to go to the hospital. It's too dangerous."

"You gonna be late to work?" Gibbs was worried about Jimmy missing work; he didn't want the hardworking young man to endanger his job.

"No, I called in. I'll actually get extra credit for this. Ducky said." And that was the end of that bit of discussion. Ducky knew, or knew of, every doctor and instructor in the city. If he called Jimmy's supervisor and told him what was going on, it would actually help him in his career. "Now. I sent Remy out for more alcohol. We're going to need it."

Gibbs rolled his sleeves up, asking, "What do I do?"

"You hold him up, while I sponge him off. He's not resisting but I don't want him trying to sit up on his own either." Jimmy efficiently poured the alcohol over ice in a bowl and dipped a wash cloth into it. "Hold him up. And hold tight. This is going to be cold."

Gibbs got behind Tony and held him up, muttering, "The things I do for love."

Tony mumbled back, "But it's so worth it." He leaned back, stifling a yelp. "Man, son of a bitch, that's cold."

"Sorry, but that fever has to come down. 104 is too high. You'll cook your brains." Jimmy wiped the cloth over Tony's neck and chest.

Tony bitched and moaned about how cold it was, but he didn't start shivering. His temp stayed up.

Remy returned with more alcohol, breakfast burritos and coffee. He dumped everything on the kitchen table, calling, "Food and coffee. I'll be back there in a second." He left the food and took the alcohol back. "Ok. What needs doing?"

Jimmy shook his head. "Nothing really. Gibbs is keeping Tony from bucking like a wild bronco and I'm wiping him down." he looked into the bowl. "Might need some more ice. Why don't you go ahead and eat, then bring some ice and trade with Gibbs."

Remy glanced at Tony, who still looked half out of his head with fever. "Ok, you need me ... yell."

"Gotcha." Jimmy went back to wiping Tony down.

Gibbs watched over Tony's shoulder as Jimmy stoically endured the freezing iced alcohol, dipping his cloth, wringing it out and wiping it over Tony; again and again. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. "Jimmy, let me do that for awhile. You'll get frost bitten."

Jimmy smiled. "I don't mind. You think he wouldn't do the same for me? I'll be ok. I'm going to stop for a bit. The food smells good." he patted Tony's cheek. "Tony? You want to eat something?"

Tony thought about that for a moment then said, "No. Probably just puke it back up. Go. Eat." He rolled his head on Gibbs' shoulder. "Boss? You wanna go eat?"

Gibbs chuckled, shaking Tony in the process. "Oh, no, Boss, you didn't want to do that. Gonna ..."

Gibbs heaved Tony out of bed and onto his feet. He quickly helped him to the bathroom, dragging the IV stand, and held his head as Tony heaved. There wasn't much for him to lose, so he was soon done.

"Damn it, Boss. I swear, I've got a stomach like a cat. Look at me cross-eyed and I'm heavin' up my guts." Tony sat down on the floor, arranged the IV line and sighed.

Gibbs just dragged the duvet off the bed and covered him with it. They looked up to see Remy and Tim watching. Jimmy was behind them.

Jimmy eyed Tony, sighed and said, "Keep him covered. Let him puke in peace. I'm going to finish my breakfast. Tim, relieve Gibbs so he can eat."

Gibbs started to argue but Tony just said, "Go, Boss. I'm feelin' a bit better."

Gibbs got up and headed for coffee, grumbling, "DiNozzo, get well. Idiot."

Tony gave Tim a mirthless smile and curled up on the floor. "McGee."

"Tony. Look like shit." Tim settled on the floor near Tony.

"Thanks, man, makes me feel really swell." Tony pulled the duvet over his head, only to get up on his knees again.

When he was done, Tim handed him a glass of water so he could rinse and spit.

"Damn it, Tony. You need to take care of yourself." Tim flattened Tony with one simple statement. "How can you take care of Remy, Cosmo and Dean, if you don't take care of yourself?"

Tony muttered, "No worse than Gibbs."

Tim snarled, "And that's a good excuse? Ya think? I'd say the same damn thing to Gibbs, but he doesn't listen either."

Gibbs, thinking of the times he'd neglected himself, and the consequences of that particular bit of youthful stupidity, interjected, "Point taken, McGee. Wish I'd listened to various people when I was young and dumb. My knees would have appreciated it."

Tony sighed; he did feel like shit. "Ok, ok. I'll stay down. But you have to entertain me. I'll go bug fuck if you don't."

Gibbs glowered at the top of Tony's head. "You'll stay down. I mean it. And I'll not only call Abby, I'll call your CO. I do believe you have orders."

Tony gave up completely. He did actually know how to follow orders, even if he did utilize any wiggle room to his advantage. Unfortunately, his orders had been plain. 'Do what you are told to do to get well. No messing around,' didn't leave any question as to intent. "Okay, I said."

Gibbs was thinking over something that their young friend, Jonny Marsh, had said — or had it been DiNozzo? He dragged his weary mind back to the point. "Everyone in the kitchen."

They all trooped into the kitchen where they found the rest of the group that everyone was beginning to call DiNozzo Watchers. Jimmy hung back against one wall, eyeing the group hesitantly.

"Should I call Ducky?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No, we don't need him just now. He's old, and needs his rest. You'll more than do. What I want is for you to set up that machine for us. Show everyone how to do it."

"Okay, but it's not time for a treatment yet." Jimmy took the machine off the counter and demonstrated how to set it up. He stopped before he put the medicine in it.

Gibbs watched carefully then asked, "Is there any reason that any of us should not try that?"

Jimmy thought for a moment. "Well, no. The only reason the medicine is prescription is its strength. You can actually get everything except the albuterol over the counter." He got an odd look in his eye then dumped in a dose and started the machine. "I'll go first to demonstrate how to do it." He managed to keep from gagging by main force of will.

Remy refused, saying he'd already done it, and he wasn't lying. He'd nearly choked on the taste.

Dean confidently took the mouthpiece and breathed in deeply. He gagged, choked and sputtered. When he could finally talk, he announced, "Oh, my God. It does taste like butt. Christ on a cracker." He stepped back to leave room for the next man.

Cosmo cheerfully refused too. His excuse was simple, "If AJ doesn't like it but does it anyway, that's good enough for me."

Abby tried it and had to go repair her makeup as the taste made her eyes water like, as she said, 'A summer spring.' Her opinion of the taste was best left to the imagination as her language was anything but ladylike.

Tim took one tentative inhale and also gagged. "Shit! Oh, man. Ugh. No wonder he hates it."

Gibbs took the last turn and manned up like a Marine should. He took as deep a breath as he'd expect Tony to. He wound up gagging so badly that he couldn't catch his breath. Dean had to hold him up for a moment while he coughed. "Holy fucking ... damn it. That's nearly torture. And the treatment makes him cough?"

Jimmy nodded. "It does. And that hurts his ribs and shoulder. But, if he doesn't cough up all that gunk, he's gonna get pneumonia. That's worse. So ... he does the treatment and hurts, or doesn't do it and hurts. Not like it's a win-win situation. Rubbing his back helps. There's also a form of Swedish massage called tapotement, a sort of patting. That helps to loosen any phlegm."

Abby raised her hand, exclaiming, "Oh! I know how to do that. I can give him a massage at least once a day." She sighed. "My lab is being stripped and deep cleaned. It's a requirement to stay certified. Since all of Team Gibbs is on furlough while this Ziva mess is sorted, Vance decided it was a good time to do it." She beamed around, evidently quite pleased with herself.

Gibbs looked at Jimmy. Jimmy nodded to him and Abby. "That's good. Abby, teach Gibbs and someone else how to do it. He could use both a massage and a breathing treatment at the same time. Treatment first then massage." He frowned for a moment. "The massage twice a day, the breathing treatment every four hours. I'll keep him on an IV of antibiotics until further notice. Get him to ... Well, you know the drill as well as I do."

They all nodded and settled in to wait while Gibbs set up a schedule for them all. He wanted at least two people with him at all times. Jimmy would stay when he wasn't on duty, as would Ducky. They could now go watch-and-watch, since Jimmy was an intern. The only problem was that Jimmy still had ER duty as a intern and classwork to complete. He would be doing his work here to stay caught up.

Ducky would take the night shift, sleeping in the guest room so he was available, if needed. Gibbs was hopeful that, now that Tony had agreed to cooperate, none of these arrangements would be needed. But, knowing Tony, better safe than sorry.

.

Gibbs eyed Tony, curled up on the bathroom floor, then gently kicked his feet. "DiNozzo, up and at 'em."

Tony emerged from his cocoon of blanket and duvet. "Yeah?"

"Treatment. Come on." Gibbs turned around and left, leaving Tony to wake himself up.

Tony grumbled softly as he got himself up. "Hate that stuff. Doesn't make me feel better at all. And it really does taste like butt."

But he was up, blanket and duvet folded and on the foot of his bed, and headed for the kitchen in quick time. He entered the kitchen to find Abby, Gibbs and Jimmy waiting for him.

Gibbs was surprised when Tony just asked, "Ok, what's first?"

Jimmy had set up the machine while Tony was getting dressed, not that anyone would call ragged sweat pants and an equally ragged Navy t-shirt, dressed. "Treatment. Then Abby will give you a tapotement treatment to help loosen the gunk. After that, breakfast, if you feel like it. I'd recommend eating something."

Tony just started his treatment without comment. He stopped twice to cough, noticing the sympathetic looks from Abby and Gibbs. He refrained from comment, knowing none was needed. He didn't need pity and he wasn't getting it, but sympathy was good.

After he finished the treatment, which hurt because of the active resistance on both exhale and inhale, he just wanted to go back to bed. Abby didn't let him, however, she cheerfully announced that now she got to 'pound the crap out of him'. Which she proceeded to do.

It wasn't that bad. She started out by telling him to leave his shirt on as she wasn't going to be rubbing, just patting. The next thing she did was tell him to turn the chair around and push it up against the table then straddle it. When he'd complied, she began patting his back, waist to shoulder in a circular pattern. She didn't pat particularly hard but the constant percussion wore on him. It also made him cough even more. He was glad for the emesis basin Jimmy produced. He spit the phlegm into it, grimacing in disgust.

Abby glanced at it, then away. "Oh, ick. Tony, that's nasty." Tony started to apologize but Abby ran him over. "I'm so glad you're getting all that stuff out of you. Just sit still a few more seconds."

Jimmy took the basin and eyed the mess. "Well, mostly good ... in a way. Some old blood, a bit of infection, and a lot of fluid. I know it looks bad but it's actually good. It's getting the infection and such out." He washed the mess down the drain and ran plenty of hot water after. He made way for Gibbs, who scrubbed the sink and basin while Jimmy listened to Tony's lung sounds.

Tony patiently allowed the fussing, looking put upon and tired.

Gibbs, knowing that anything Tony ate would taste like albuterol and tea tree oil, gave Tony a treat. The cinnamon bun was his mother's recipe, handed down to Shannon by Jack. He still had the original recipe book, with her handwritten notes. "Here. Try that on for size." He handed more plates around and took one for himself.

Contrary to popular belief, Gibbs did not live on cowboy steaks and coffee. He actually ate rather well, and didn't indulge in sweets that much. But when he did, he went all out. On this occasion he slathered the still hot bun with butter, then poured syrup on it.

Jimmy winced. Tony noticed and remarked. "I know, and he puts peanut butter on his pancakes."

Abby nodded. "It's very good. I prefer peach compote myself. But that's really better on waffles."

Tony mumbled around a mouthful of bun. "I've got a great recipe for candied ginger peach compote that's really good. Remind me to give it to you."

"Ok, later. Now, finish eating and go to bed." Abby pointed her fork, loaded with bun, at Tony.

Tony leaned over and snatched the bite off Abby's fork. This made her squeak indignantly, which made Tim and Gibbs laugh.

Tony finished his food and coffee but refused to go to bed. Instead, he gathered up the duvet and an afghan he produced from the foot stool and settled on the couch to watch tv.

And that was the way it went for the next three days. Tony took his treatments with religious regularity, allowing whoever was on duty to fix the machine for him. He also submitted to Abby's back-patting massage.

Gibbs watched with some amusement, mixed with a bit of concern as Tony drifted through the days, moving from bed to couch and back, with stops in the kitchen for treatments and meals. He seemed to drift off at the drop of a hat, but woke with a jerk when anyone changed the channel or turned the tv off. He seemed in a permanent daze.

Day three came and with it, a total change in Tony. That day he was up, took care of the three S's and made it to the kitchen by 0700.

"Boss, when is Ducky coming? I'm goin' stir crazy here." Tony put the spirometer away, hopefully for the last time.

"Soon. He said by 0800 latest. Omelet?" Gibbs had taken over most of the cooking on site. Abby continued to come in, make huge quantities of something, then leave again. She also gave Tony a tapotement treatment twice a day.

Tony thought about that for a moment then nodded. "Got sausage?"

"Do. And mushrooms and onions. American, swiss ..." Gibbs checked the fridge. "or cheddar?"

"Just sausage and onions with cheddar. Thanks." Tony rubbed his face. "I feel a hundred per. How much longer will Vance give us?"

Gibbs smirked at Tony. "Tim and I have been back on cold cases for the last two days. Vance wants us all on cold cases until you pass your requal." Tony made a face. "Give it up. You have to requal and you know it. You'll be down on performance but we'll take care of that."

Tony just nodded. "Ok, Boss. Cold cases until I'm back on track. I'll have to do the same thing for my CO. Vance is gonna have a fit."

Gibbs shrugged. "Tough. He's gonna have to get used to it. You're a SEAL, just like I'm a Marine. We both work for NCIS, but ..." he smiled a bit self-consciously, "I'm a reservist and I will be until they kick me out. So, he'll deal, or we'll go. I bet I could get a detachment with your unit."

Tony snorted. "I know you could. Training snipers. But let's not shoot before there's a target."

. Epilogue

Leon Vance signed off for Tony DiNozzo to return to work, on desk duty only, on Monday.

He also signed papers to pay for six months' inpatient care for Ziva David. She was lost to them as an agent. Israel didn't want her back; she was too broken for them to fix. They were, however, granting her a retirement package that would keep her for the rest of her life; along with her NCIS package, she was set. What she was going to do with the rest of her life was now her problem. He didn't like that bit much but what was he to do? She was a free agent, as the saying went. Perhaps she could get a job with some other agency? One which did not require her to put herself in situations that might trigger her.

He looked from one paper to the other and decided his glass was half full. He was getting his best SFA back, after all.

He settled back to finish the rest of his paperwork.

.

Monday came, and with it, Team Gibbs. Abby returned to her clean lab and her retuned babies. Tim and Gibbs settled at their desks and piles of cold cases. Tony also returned to his desk and a pile of cold cases. Ziva's desk was empty; Vance had come down and gotten her things for her that Friday. Gibbs had nodded to him while Tim had had to go for coffee.

Tony nodded to Gibbs. "Boss."

"DiNozzo."

"Tim."

"Tony."

"Cold cases." Tony eyed the pile.

"Cold cases," Gibbs agreed.

As usual, disclaimer, I don't own anything except my original characters, and the plot, everything recognizable belongs to Donald Belisario and co.

.

Due to the elimination of Ziva from NCIS I've taken the liberty of writing her out of my stories too. [Personally, I like the way you took to write Ziva out. I always thought that it was rather unrealistic, the way she showed little to no adverse reaction to her Somalian captivity.]

I'll admit that I never liked Ziva like I wanted to. I like the idea of Ziva but the way she was written by the show left me unsatisfied. Sort of like a plate of spaghetti with no sauce. I didn't like her attitude of 'in Mossad' we did everything better. And she was off the reservation more often than not. She was also mean spirited more than I liked. Her attitude toward Tony vacillated between flirty and contemptuous. She led Tim to treat Tony badly too.

Instead of Ziva, I'll bring in various TAD's to play with. Please don't ask for any of them back because that won't happen. I want a different one to fit a story, that's what I get. Sorry. Although, one might last more than one story.

.

As I was writing, I used a phrase that I've noticed is misquoted with irritating regularity. It's think, not thing. 'If you think [something], you have another THINK coming. Not thing. For God's sake, if you can't get it right, don't quote it.

.

In case you are wondering. PTSD is one of those things that shows up in all sorts of odd ways. One man I know can't stand the sound of a vacuum sweeper. His wife has to warn him to leave the house before she can run it. He's not even sure why. Another way it shows up is an obsessive need to know things. Tony is into every box, container and drawer in a strange place, because there might be something in there he needs to deal with. Ziva has an obsessive need to know every detail of Tony's life. Why? Because it suits my story.

.

ASVAB waiver - the only way said person got into the military was because the ASVAB was waived in their favor. (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery)

Since so many people have asked, all the acronyms are posted in my bio. I do understand that googling them is a pain, but posting them at the end of a chapter then making you search for them doesn't seem like a very good idea either.

Another thing I've noticed. People are beginning to get the awful habit of saying things like, "The Army Soldier," or the Navy Soldier.

So not.

Army = Soldier  
Navy, Coast Guard = seaman or sailor. (Not sure when the difference kicks in) [As far as I know, the two terms are interchangeable; a difference that makes no difference is no difference]  
Air Force = Airman  
Marine = Marine  
National Guard = Guardsman

And they'll, more or less, politely call you on it if you get it wrong.


End file.
